One phone call made all the difference today. I heard my parents' voices for the first time in over two months, and I nearly cried. Talking to them seemed to relieve me of all of the stress I've been accumulating over the last several weeks. And a short time ago, talking to my family was the most stress-inducing aspect of my life. I'll never be able to be one of those people who goes months without talking to his family. I can't be that disconnected. I'd been lonely for months, even around other people who love and care for me, and I was starting to get worried that I might be depressed again. But those feelings vanished. When I hung up, I was smiling and happy. And I felt like things were finally going right for me. I felt like I was headed in the right direction. Maybe it was good to hear all of those things from them too. My family is crazy. But I love them. And I'll never be able to stop, and I'll never be ungrateful for what they have been able to give me, even if there were some things I wish could have been different along the way.
I tried to be the kind of person who turned his back on his family when they did not show immediate acceptance, but I'm not capable of that. It tears me apart. On some level, I think this is true for me no matter what type of personal relationship I have with someone. I suppose I will always have some level of love and concern for those who are no longer in my life. At the very least, I'm not one to hold on to bitter feelings. I don't believe that this makes me a pushover, though it did before I learned more effective and more appropriate ways to manage my affairs. There is a part of me that believes that some doors never really close, but the rest of me seems to want to fight that. Two parts of my nature are in conflict with one another, and I figure that it's better to let the fight play out than to interfere by trying to rationalize my emotional behavior. Everything is going to be okay.
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Friday, October 14, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Call the Zoo
At some point, I told myself that I would start writing here more frequently again.
But I might have been drunk.
I don't think I've ever actually written anything while intoxicated, though I managed to pump out a good chunk of a nine-page letter before succumbing to the effects of a massive dose of some serious cough syrup. EPIC cough syrup.
I didn't intend to get drunk last night. It just sort of happened, and I know I did some really stupid shit on facebook and private messaged several people. Then I ate some toast, and the next thing I remember is waking up in my bed with all of my clothes on, drenched in sweat and smelling like a gay bar. What a lovely start to my day, don't you think?
I don't know why I felt off today. Little things just bother me more when I get this way. For example, people getting sidetracked often upsets me when there is clearly something that needs to be done. I tend to get anxious and easily frustrated.
Mr. Pittsburgh is next weekend, and I'm extremely worried about it. I don't really enjoy competing against my friends, for one thing, and that has more to do with the fact that I'm actually ridiculously competitive, and I can be a monumental douchebag. More than anything, I am discovering how limited my resources are and what that means for me. No matter how talented I am, I'm definitely not going to look the best. Things aren't going to be extravagant and over-the-top. I'm just going to do what I know how to do. And I'm starting to doubt myself and worry that that just won't be enough. I keep trying to answer the question of why I deserve this just as much or more than anyone else, and it's getting really difficult. I'm generally a pompous asshole, but I get in these annoying little ruts where I lack any self-confidence. I remember having this same sort of crisis right before helping out a friend with her own pageant. When I was facing the prospect of competing against one of my best friends earlier this year, I started feeling the same way. I know that I do. I know that I don't need expensive shit or fancy props to win. I know that I can carry myself to a victory even if I'm butt-ass naked, which I'm sure would make some people happy, at least. But there's that weird space of difference between knowing something and feeling it in which I'm finding myself. I feel stuck. I've felt stuck--in so many aspects of my life--for several months now, and I want to believe that the nice weather will turn things around for me.
I'm going on an unintentional diet for the next few weeks. It's reminiscent of the poor-kid diet I went through in October. I'm still a little freaked out by those pictures. Anyway, I had to spend at least a little bit trying to get things for this contest, and that tanked my already meager bank account. I have $1.16 to my name right now, and I don't have much food left in the house, and I feel like a jerk eating other people's stuff, so I eat my packets of tuna and have some cheerios. And I drink water. It's not like I'm terribly unhappy with it. I'm eating healthy things, but I never feel like I'm satisfied. I am always wanting more, but I know there is none. And that's depressing. I'm getting paranoid about not finding a job. I think that will be my biggest project tomorrow, other than heading to the bank to see how they will deal with a check that's made out to Dylan and not to Elise.
I got a letter from my brother today. I didn't really know how to respond to it. It's not an angry letter. He took his time with this one and really thought about what he wanted to say. I can understand exactly why he feels the way he does and the processes he used to rationalize his beliefs. But it just made me...sad. How can he expect to ever be close to me again? As much as I do cherish my past and everything in it, clinging to it in the way that he envisions would annihilate the possibility of ever becoming close to the person that I am now and will be in the future. I do not exist apart from my past. I have in no way attempted to erase the person I had been for 21 years. I still can look at those pictures and say, "This is me."
I want to be able to explain that those memories are not invalid, though my experience of them was much different. Being a little girl wasn't fun for me. It wasn't cute. It wasn't something I cherished or wanted. It was something that I wanted to ignore at the time. It was something that was there just as a word and nothing more. The word was nothing to me until it became a prison, until I couldn't ignore it any longer. Until I had to fight to be seen for who I am. When I look at those pictures, I don't see a little girl. I see me. Looking back, it's easy for me to recognize that I really have always been a boy, not because of what I was wearing or what sports I was playing, but because of how I felt inside and how I related to other people growing up. I always wanted to be in that role and be treated like the others, and I would kick and scream about how I wasn't, and I had NO IDEA why. I just don't think I'll be able to convince him that he's always had a little brother, really.
He's having a problem because these words aren't just words to him. They represent enormous constructs around which his entire life was based growing up. Changing them, in his mind, would mean having to alter the past--alter what he sees as the absolute truth of the universe. The past cannot be changed, and attempting to change it is living a lie. I can understand this logic perfectly, and perhaps this is why it is not a problem at all when people say she/Elise when referring to the version of me that existed prior to my transition. But there is more than the past. The present is NOT the same, and the future won't be either. But that's not going to negate what has already existed. He has attached our relationship directly to the words used to describe the relationship. Can I blame him? How many people today can really even begin to separate language from thought? In order for him to understand and accept the person that I am now, he's going to have to detach all of these aspects of our relationship from those words and transfer them to new ones, and I wonder what that will take for him.
I can't separate the pain from those words. So I guess I can understand a little bit of what he's feeling. I am not okay with being disrespected by people whom I've told why it's so important to me, and I don't think that I should have to be as a compromise. This isn't a compromise about terms used. It's a compromise of myself, if I choose to make it.
So I was feeling kind of shitty and off today, and maybe that's a little bit about why. I thought I would have stopped feeling overwhelmed after graduation. The fact that I have not has contributed to my overall state of unhappiness because it makes me believe that I will never stop feeling this way. I'll never be a calm person. I'll never just be content and easy-going. And that sucks. Again and again, I say it. We can't be anything more than what we are.
Transition made it possible for me to start dealing with all of the other shit that's been buried inside of me for the past 22 years. Everything else was being masked by the fact that I absolutely needed to do this in order to move forward in my life. It was do or die for me, really. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think. But now I'm starting to actually face some of the shit that I should have confronted a long time ago. I'm not in a good place with it right now. I feel like that mountain of shit is just too much for me. I can't see to the other side. I feel like I may never be able to get past some of these things now that they are in the open. And I wish I could talk to my family about it. I wish I could talk to them about so many of the things that I am going through right now, but I am so afraid that they will think that the transition has caused these problems. I know it hasn't. I know it hasn't because these problems have always been there. I can't hide from them anymore because of my transition. And while that does suck for me in some ways, it's probably a good thing. I wish I could FEEL like it is.
It's hard to even remember what it felt like to be in "another body". This is my body, and it feels like it's always been this way. I don't feel like my face has changed. I think I've always seen myself this way, regardless of what other people saw. That's why it is so easy to accept the physical changes as they come. That is why it is exciting. You'll have moments of seeing yourself as being different now and you realize that you really are physically becoming what you have always known yourself to be internally. I'm trying to think about what I used to look like. I'm thinking about my legs and how I looked at them with disgust. I thought they looked fat and gross, and I never wanted anyone to see them. I would look at my chest in the mirror and look at my hips, seeing this fat that didn't belong there, and no matter what I did, it was never going to go away. I would smile, and it would just seem awkward. I couldn't look at myself and be confident. I'd have my good days, of course. But I wouldn't be able to take my shirt off in bed. Sometimes I wouldn't take any of my clothes off, and when I did, I always had to put them right back on. I couldn't stand being in that body. I couldn't stand someone else touching that body. I wanted to hide it, even from myself. And my voice...I couldn't even stand listening to it when people played it back for me. When I spoke, I would hear a much deeper and smoother voice, but whenever I found myself listening to a recording, I wanted to cry. I couldn't believe that that squeaky-ass nasal sound came out of me.
My train of thought just crashed. I think it hit another train. And now there are dying thought children. And they are on fire...Sometimes, I worry about myself...
I don't know if I would like it to stay this quiet or for it to get really loud right about now. I'm getting uncomfortable. My stomach is starting to bother me. I wonder if someone is here.
"The further you go, the less you know."
But I might have been drunk.
I don't think I've ever actually written anything while intoxicated, though I managed to pump out a good chunk of a nine-page letter before succumbing to the effects of a massive dose of some serious cough syrup. EPIC cough syrup.
I didn't intend to get drunk last night. It just sort of happened, and I know I did some really stupid shit on facebook and private messaged several people. Then I ate some toast, and the next thing I remember is waking up in my bed with all of my clothes on, drenched in sweat and smelling like a gay bar. What a lovely start to my day, don't you think?
I don't know why I felt off today. Little things just bother me more when I get this way. For example, people getting sidetracked often upsets me when there is clearly something that needs to be done. I tend to get anxious and easily frustrated.
Mr. Pittsburgh is next weekend, and I'm extremely worried about it. I don't really enjoy competing against my friends, for one thing, and that has more to do with the fact that I'm actually ridiculously competitive, and I can be a monumental douchebag. More than anything, I am discovering how limited my resources are and what that means for me. No matter how talented I am, I'm definitely not going to look the best. Things aren't going to be extravagant and over-the-top. I'm just going to do what I know how to do. And I'm starting to doubt myself and worry that that just won't be enough. I keep trying to answer the question of why I deserve this just as much or more than anyone else, and it's getting really difficult. I'm generally a pompous asshole, but I get in these annoying little ruts where I lack any self-confidence. I remember having this same sort of crisis right before helping out a friend with her own pageant. When I was facing the prospect of competing against one of my best friends earlier this year, I started feeling the same way. I know that I do. I know that I don't need expensive shit or fancy props to win. I know that I can carry myself to a victory even if I'm butt-ass naked, which I'm sure would make some people happy, at least. But there's that weird space of difference between knowing something and feeling it in which I'm finding myself. I feel stuck. I've felt stuck--in so many aspects of my life--for several months now, and I want to believe that the nice weather will turn things around for me.
I'm going on an unintentional diet for the next few weeks. It's reminiscent of the poor-kid diet I went through in October. I'm still a little freaked out by those pictures. Anyway, I had to spend at least a little bit trying to get things for this contest, and that tanked my already meager bank account. I have $1.16 to my name right now, and I don't have much food left in the house, and I feel like a jerk eating other people's stuff, so I eat my packets of tuna and have some cheerios. And I drink water. It's not like I'm terribly unhappy with it. I'm eating healthy things, but I never feel like I'm satisfied. I am always wanting more, but I know there is none. And that's depressing. I'm getting paranoid about not finding a job. I think that will be my biggest project tomorrow, other than heading to the bank to see how they will deal with a check that's made out to Dylan and not to Elise.
I got a letter from my brother today. I didn't really know how to respond to it. It's not an angry letter. He took his time with this one and really thought about what he wanted to say. I can understand exactly why he feels the way he does and the processes he used to rationalize his beliefs. But it just made me...sad. How can he expect to ever be close to me again? As much as I do cherish my past and everything in it, clinging to it in the way that he envisions would annihilate the possibility of ever becoming close to the person that I am now and will be in the future. I do not exist apart from my past. I have in no way attempted to erase the person I had been for 21 years. I still can look at those pictures and say, "This is me."
I want to be able to explain that those memories are not invalid, though my experience of them was much different. Being a little girl wasn't fun for me. It wasn't cute. It wasn't something I cherished or wanted. It was something that I wanted to ignore at the time. It was something that was there just as a word and nothing more. The word was nothing to me until it became a prison, until I couldn't ignore it any longer. Until I had to fight to be seen for who I am. When I look at those pictures, I don't see a little girl. I see me. Looking back, it's easy for me to recognize that I really have always been a boy, not because of what I was wearing or what sports I was playing, but because of how I felt inside and how I related to other people growing up. I always wanted to be in that role and be treated like the others, and I would kick and scream about how I wasn't, and I had NO IDEA why. I just don't think I'll be able to convince him that he's always had a little brother, really.
He's having a problem because these words aren't just words to him. They represent enormous constructs around which his entire life was based growing up. Changing them, in his mind, would mean having to alter the past--alter what he sees as the absolute truth of the universe. The past cannot be changed, and attempting to change it is living a lie. I can understand this logic perfectly, and perhaps this is why it is not a problem at all when people say she/Elise when referring to the version of me that existed prior to my transition. But there is more than the past. The present is NOT the same, and the future won't be either. But that's not going to negate what has already existed. He has attached our relationship directly to the words used to describe the relationship. Can I blame him? How many people today can really even begin to separate language from thought? In order for him to understand and accept the person that I am now, he's going to have to detach all of these aspects of our relationship from those words and transfer them to new ones, and I wonder what that will take for him.
I can't separate the pain from those words. So I guess I can understand a little bit of what he's feeling. I am not okay with being disrespected by people whom I've told why it's so important to me, and I don't think that I should have to be as a compromise. This isn't a compromise about terms used. It's a compromise of myself, if I choose to make it.
So I was feeling kind of shitty and off today, and maybe that's a little bit about why. I thought I would have stopped feeling overwhelmed after graduation. The fact that I have not has contributed to my overall state of unhappiness because it makes me believe that I will never stop feeling this way. I'll never be a calm person. I'll never just be content and easy-going. And that sucks. Again and again, I say it. We can't be anything more than what we are.
Transition made it possible for me to start dealing with all of the other shit that's been buried inside of me for the past 22 years. Everything else was being masked by the fact that I absolutely needed to do this in order to move forward in my life. It was do or die for me, really. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think. But now I'm starting to actually face some of the shit that I should have confronted a long time ago. I'm not in a good place with it right now. I feel like that mountain of shit is just too much for me. I can't see to the other side. I feel like I may never be able to get past some of these things now that they are in the open. And I wish I could talk to my family about it. I wish I could talk to them about so many of the things that I am going through right now, but I am so afraid that they will think that the transition has caused these problems. I know it hasn't. I know it hasn't because these problems have always been there. I can't hide from them anymore because of my transition. And while that does suck for me in some ways, it's probably a good thing. I wish I could FEEL like it is.
It's hard to even remember what it felt like to be in "another body". This is my body, and it feels like it's always been this way. I don't feel like my face has changed. I think I've always seen myself this way, regardless of what other people saw. That's why it is so easy to accept the physical changes as they come. That is why it is exciting. You'll have moments of seeing yourself as being different now and you realize that you really are physically becoming what you have always known yourself to be internally. I'm trying to think about what I used to look like. I'm thinking about my legs and how I looked at them with disgust. I thought they looked fat and gross, and I never wanted anyone to see them. I would look at my chest in the mirror and look at my hips, seeing this fat that didn't belong there, and no matter what I did, it was never going to go away. I would smile, and it would just seem awkward. I couldn't look at myself and be confident. I'd have my good days, of course. But I wouldn't be able to take my shirt off in bed. Sometimes I wouldn't take any of my clothes off, and when I did, I always had to put them right back on. I couldn't stand being in that body. I couldn't stand someone else touching that body. I wanted to hide it, even from myself. And my voice...I couldn't even stand listening to it when people played it back for me. When I spoke, I would hear a much deeper and smoother voice, but whenever I found myself listening to a recording, I wanted to cry. I couldn't believe that that squeaky-ass nasal sound came out of me.
My train of thought just crashed. I think it hit another train. And now there are dying thought children. And they are on fire...Sometimes, I worry about myself...
I don't know if I would like it to stay this quiet or for it to get really loud right about now. I'm getting uncomfortable. My stomach is starting to bother me. I wonder if someone is here.
"The further you go, the less you know."
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
December'd
Don't feel like I'm feeling anything. Tried writing some poetry but it didn't work. Maybe it's the fight I'm having with my eyelids. Maybe it's the one I'm having with mom. I'm not asking for permission, which is what I think they think. Do I really feel like talking about that now? Life needs a pause button. Not even all of it. It's like I've got 4 or 5 different screens playing. I just can't watch all of them at once, and I hate it when I miss things. I need to Tivo my own life. Too many things to worry about. Not enough things I can do about any of them right now. Focus. Enough for a few more weeks before I crash. But the ball's going to keep rolling right on through the end of this semester. What the hell am I even saying? I hate having to use expressions like that. It makes me feel lazy. I don't like when words don't mean anything anymore. I want something evocative out of what I read (and write). You can't give me a good mental image with some trite expression, but sometimes, that's the only thing that works to convey meaning. It's only surface meaning, though. To do the job right, you need more than one coat of paint. Each layer builds upon the next, ultimately leading to that seamless, shining finish. It might take a little longer, but the end product is definitely worth it.
I don't always do that here because sometimes I just need to vent. Sometimes I just need to get the mixed up feelings out of my system, and whatever words those feelings find are fine. And those feelings are mine, so why should I worry about the criticism from outside?
I'm really getting in a rut here with these random rants and disconnected postings of mine. It seems fitting, considering the general pattern of events occurring in my life right now, and by pattern, I mean lack of a pattern.
I really wonder if my mom still reads this. I wonder what she thinks of me as a human being after having seen all of this. Maybe she hasn't even read everything. Maybe she only managed to read it that one day to find the worst things I had written about my family in my entire life. I'm not going to be ashamed of what I wrote that day. Everything I said is true. And feelings are neither true nor false, and since I was feeling those things at the time, I see no reason to have to erase them and pretend that that part of my life didn't happen. I acknowledge both the good and the bad.
I'm not making any sense again. Maybe I just needed to feel like I did something important by writing something down.
I had a not-so-productive conversation with my parents tonight. I was at the gym when they called, and there was no way I could go back to working out after I got off the phone with them. Bad things would have happened. My mom is convinced I'll get cancer or something horrible will happen to me as a result of T. My dad expresses similar concerns only because my mom was able to find something on the internet that indicated the risks ( most of which/the major ones I believe she failed to recognize as extraordinarily rare). They also think the situation is identical to that of bodybuilders injecting themselves with shit-tons of it so they can be freaks. I tried explaining that there is completely different reasoning there, but they seem convinced that I'll just keep wanting to take more and more. I don't know how to make them see that these situations are vastly different and should never be equated. Oh and my mom thinks that it's going to fuck with my brain. Now she's even more convinced that my decision is irrational. I can't believe she doesn't think that I understand the risks. I've been looking at this for way longer than she has, and I've talked to way more people than she has, yet in finding some random shit on the internet over the course of only 2 days, she thinks that she has it all figured out. Now, I know that I don't know everything, but I'm pretty sure that the mortality and morbidity rates for trans people are the same as in the general population. I'm also pretty sure that there have been studies done to prove that testosterone actually increases working memory by a little bit. I feel like they're going to go crazy over these things. I don't know how to alleviate these concerns. I hope that they are just that--concerns. I hope that they don't go nuts over trying to change my mind. I wish they could just express concern without having to insult me or demand that I do something different. It's really aggravating.
They keep trying to change my mind. I think my dad sort of got the idea tonight. He said that it seemed like I was going to do anything to defend my position and not listen to anyone else. I suppose that's partly true. They aren't going to change my mind. Only I can change my mind. I understand the risks, and they are risks that I am prepared to take. My mom even accused me of not knowing what will make me happy. She said that there is no way that I can know that. I asked her if she knows what makes her happy, and she said that she doesn't all the time. When I told her that I wasn't talking about transient happiness, she just started evading the question. I ended up pointing out that maybe she should start thinking about it. Why is it so damn hard for people to think? I know what makes me happy. And I do know what I want. Why can't people accept that? Why must my parents try to diminish that? It's a very good thing to know what you want out of life? Am I supposed to wait until my life is half over before I start to live it? I don't see much sense in that. I don't see much sense in waiting years and years to do something that I know I will do anyway. It's not like I'm going to start T tomorrow either. I have already explained that I need to talk to a professional about this for a while before I do that.
There's no way to convince my parents, it seems. Everyone I talk to has to have an agenda. That must be it. I need to talk to independent people who don't have experience with this because those who are gender therapists or trans endocrinologists are biased and they'll tell me anything. That seems kind of ridiculous to me. I hope I am not the only one. NOT EVERYTHING IS A CONSPIRACY. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. And sometimes a doctor is a doctor who will tell you the facts. And sometimes they recognize what risks are worth taking. If you're going to decrease someone's chances of suicide by 2000 percent by doing something that will increase one's chances of having liver cancer by less than .5 percent, well...The choice seems obvious. That's the way most people see it. What's the point if you're not going to be happy with your life anyway? What's the point of any of that health if you can't enjoy it because you make yourself sick all the time worrying about this? The risks are there. I am not denying it. But they aren't at all common. And I wouldn't be stupid about it. I'd get checked out all the time because that's what you're supposed to do. If you don't, you're an idiot. I've always been extremely concerned about my health and wellness, and it bothers me to think that my parents don't believe that I have considered that at all. I don't think they get it yet. If I weren't 100 percent sure of this and 100 percent ready to deal with everything, I wouldn't have decided that this was the right thing for me. I wouldn't have said anything at all. This isn't some game that I'm playing. And it's not just something that's going to go away. I keep getting frustrated by the things they say to me. I feel like they just want me to get tired of arguing with them and give up on it. But that's not what would happen. I would get tired of arguing them and do it anyway, and I don't know what that would do to our relationship. But I need them to understand that I am not looking for their approval here. I'm looking for them to attempt to understand the situation. And part of that is understanding that I don't need them trying to force me out of this every step of the way. Part of that is understanding that this is my decision and that I do not need them assaulting me with their opinions of it constantly. I'm reaching my limit with that, and I'm generally a pretty patient person. I can wait a little longer for them to understand that, but I have no idea how I can explain that to them if they don't figure it out for themselves.
I will make that call in the afternoon tomorrow.
And why is money such a huge concern when there are way more important things to be worrying about in this situation? They keep asking me where I am going to get the money for this, so I assume that means that they won't be helping me out. I'm fine with that. I have a plan.
I don't know. I'm just sick of always being on the defensive about my own life. I'm sick of my parents not respecting and/or trusting my decisions. They do this all the time, and I don't know why I expected it to be different this time.
I have a lot of things to do tomorrow. I need to get my act together and really focus during these last few weeks, but that seems impossible with all of this happening. I seriously think the best thing would just be to not talk to them until the end of the semester, but I know they won't react very well to that, and I feel like things aren't exactly in my favor right now and don't want to push the balance further away from me.
I should probably go to sleep considering I have class in 6 hours. I had planned to study for that class tonight, but every time I talk to my parents, I lose all my focus. I just get so worked up about things that it becomes impossible for me to do my work. That's really a problem. I need to explain this to them, but again, they aren't very likely to understand that either. While I can slack off most of the time, there are just some things for which that doesn't work...like when I have to turn in something instead of just studying for a quiz. I need the time to work on the shit. I can't fake that. Argh.
I don't know. Maybe I should just read some more. I say "I don't know" way too often. But it's true. There are a lot of things I don't have answers for. And I feel like that isn't always my fault. A lot of the time, I do have answers but fear that others may see them as the wrong ones. But with this--with being trans--it's completely different. It's something that I just don't worry about when it comes to the opinions of other people. I know that this is what is right. This is what I want. I can't stress that enough for my parents. This is who I am. If they could only see how living like this has improved things for me, then maybe they'd get it. But they are stuck several hundred miles away and have been for the past four years, so it's easy to see why they think that this is unexpected and doesn't make sense. I don't think they understand that I am definitely not the same person who left for college several years ago. How do people forget things like that? Were they really the same people as they were in high school when they graduated from college? They might have been. My dad never left home. My mom transferred from Michigan State after a year. Maybe they never changed. I don't know. But I grew up a whole lot when I realized what kind of world was out there. I had an idea, but I really didn't know what to expect. I knew things would be different. They were. And things just started to make so much sense. I am so much happier now than I have ever been. I can honestly say that. As lame as it may sound, I've finally found myself. And that just kicks ass.
I feel like I repeat myself a lot. I know I do. But sometimes I need that. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I'm the one that matters. Sometimes I worry way too much about how other people are doing that I forget to take care of myself. I guess that's the vice of my chosen profession. If it's not, it should be.
It's past 4 AM, for those of you who REALLY need to know. ;)
I ended up at Eat N Park tonight with good people. I had a great time, even though I barely said anything all night. Just being there was enough for me. At first it didn't feel like it should have been. I felt like more should have been going on between people. But that's not what tonight was about. It was about being part of that group. It was about just being together without worrying about saying anything or doing anything. It was good. And I'm glad I was able to recognize that.
I'm getting a little tired. I should probably sleep. I know I keep saying this.
I have no filter right now, it seems.
Right now? lol
Yes, I rarely use knives. I'll stab a fork into the meat and eat it like that. It's not even something that I think about, unless I'm in some really fancy restaurant where I have to be all self-conscious.
I'll probably say something that's completely inappropriate in the context of the conversation, and I may not pick up on forced subtlety. However, I am great at picking up the things you DON'T know you are conveying. It's easy to tell with things like that because you can't hide them. They are pretty much the same for everyone. You can't hide things like that because you have no idea that you are doing them. It's kind of cool, the science behind body language. It's a valuable skill. Yet I still manage to mess up basic things from time to time. It happens.
Oh yeah, and sometimes I just have no idea what the fuck to say. A lot of the time. Small talk is almost impossible. But there are some times when things are completely fine and I can talk about anything.
I'm sure there are other ridiculous things that I do that I'm just not remembering. Nothing to worry about, really. Except those random panic attacks, but that hasn't happened in a while. I'd like to think that I know why.
Alright, I'm actually going to be now. I think I need something profound at the end here.
-------------
You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. --Palahniuk
I don't always do that here because sometimes I just need to vent. Sometimes I just need to get the mixed up feelings out of my system, and whatever words those feelings find are fine. And those feelings are mine, so why should I worry about the criticism from outside?
I'm really getting in a rut here with these random rants and disconnected postings of mine. It seems fitting, considering the general pattern of events occurring in my life right now, and by pattern, I mean lack of a pattern.
I really wonder if my mom still reads this. I wonder what she thinks of me as a human being after having seen all of this. Maybe she hasn't even read everything. Maybe she only managed to read it that one day to find the worst things I had written about my family in my entire life. I'm not going to be ashamed of what I wrote that day. Everything I said is true. And feelings are neither true nor false, and since I was feeling those things at the time, I see no reason to have to erase them and pretend that that part of my life didn't happen. I acknowledge both the good and the bad.
I'm not making any sense again. Maybe I just needed to feel like I did something important by writing something down.
I had a not-so-productive conversation with my parents tonight. I was at the gym when they called, and there was no way I could go back to working out after I got off the phone with them. Bad things would have happened. My mom is convinced I'll get cancer or something horrible will happen to me as a result of T. My dad expresses similar concerns only because my mom was able to find something on the internet that indicated the risks ( most of which/the major ones I believe she failed to recognize as extraordinarily rare). They also think the situation is identical to that of bodybuilders injecting themselves with shit-tons of it so they can be freaks. I tried explaining that there is completely different reasoning there, but they seem convinced that I'll just keep wanting to take more and more. I don't know how to make them see that these situations are vastly different and should never be equated. Oh and my mom thinks that it's going to fuck with my brain. Now she's even more convinced that my decision is irrational. I can't believe she doesn't think that I understand the risks. I've been looking at this for way longer than she has, and I've talked to way more people than she has, yet in finding some random shit on the internet over the course of only 2 days, she thinks that she has it all figured out. Now, I know that I don't know everything, but I'm pretty sure that the mortality and morbidity rates for trans people are the same as in the general population. I'm also pretty sure that there have been studies done to prove that testosterone actually increases working memory by a little bit. I feel like they're going to go crazy over these things. I don't know how to alleviate these concerns. I hope that they are just that--concerns. I hope that they don't go nuts over trying to change my mind. I wish they could just express concern without having to insult me or demand that I do something different. It's really aggravating.
They keep trying to change my mind. I think my dad sort of got the idea tonight. He said that it seemed like I was going to do anything to defend my position and not listen to anyone else. I suppose that's partly true. They aren't going to change my mind. Only I can change my mind. I understand the risks, and they are risks that I am prepared to take. My mom even accused me of not knowing what will make me happy. She said that there is no way that I can know that. I asked her if she knows what makes her happy, and she said that she doesn't all the time. When I told her that I wasn't talking about transient happiness, she just started evading the question. I ended up pointing out that maybe she should start thinking about it. Why is it so damn hard for people to think? I know what makes me happy. And I do know what I want. Why can't people accept that? Why must my parents try to diminish that? It's a very good thing to know what you want out of life? Am I supposed to wait until my life is half over before I start to live it? I don't see much sense in that. I don't see much sense in waiting years and years to do something that I know I will do anyway. It's not like I'm going to start T tomorrow either. I have already explained that I need to talk to a professional about this for a while before I do that.
There's no way to convince my parents, it seems. Everyone I talk to has to have an agenda. That must be it. I need to talk to independent people who don't have experience with this because those who are gender therapists or trans endocrinologists are biased and they'll tell me anything. That seems kind of ridiculous to me. I hope I am not the only one. NOT EVERYTHING IS A CONSPIRACY. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. And sometimes a doctor is a doctor who will tell you the facts. And sometimes they recognize what risks are worth taking. If you're going to decrease someone's chances of suicide by 2000 percent by doing something that will increase one's chances of having liver cancer by less than .5 percent, well...The choice seems obvious. That's the way most people see it. What's the point if you're not going to be happy with your life anyway? What's the point of any of that health if you can't enjoy it because you make yourself sick all the time worrying about this? The risks are there. I am not denying it. But they aren't at all common. And I wouldn't be stupid about it. I'd get checked out all the time because that's what you're supposed to do. If you don't, you're an idiot. I've always been extremely concerned about my health and wellness, and it bothers me to think that my parents don't believe that I have considered that at all. I don't think they get it yet. If I weren't 100 percent sure of this and 100 percent ready to deal with everything, I wouldn't have decided that this was the right thing for me. I wouldn't have said anything at all. This isn't some game that I'm playing. And it's not just something that's going to go away. I keep getting frustrated by the things they say to me. I feel like they just want me to get tired of arguing with them and give up on it. But that's not what would happen. I would get tired of arguing them and do it anyway, and I don't know what that would do to our relationship. But I need them to understand that I am not looking for their approval here. I'm looking for them to attempt to understand the situation. And part of that is understanding that I don't need them trying to force me out of this every step of the way. Part of that is understanding that this is my decision and that I do not need them assaulting me with their opinions of it constantly. I'm reaching my limit with that, and I'm generally a pretty patient person. I can wait a little longer for them to understand that, but I have no idea how I can explain that to them if they don't figure it out for themselves.
I will make that call in the afternoon tomorrow.
And why is money such a huge concern when there are way more important things to be worrying about in this situation? They keep asking me where I am going to get the money for this, so I assume that means that they won't be helping me out. I'm fine with that. I have a plan.
I don't know. I'm just sick of always being on the defensive about my own life. I'm sick of my parents not respecting and/or trusting my decisions. They do this all the time, and I don't know why I expected it to be different this time.
I have a lot of things to do tomorrow. I need to get my act together and really focus during these last few weeks, but that seems impossible with all of this happening. I seriously think the best thing would just be to not talk to them until the end of the semester, but I know they won't react very well to that, and I feel like things aren't exactly in my favor right now and don't want to push the balance further away from me.
I should probably go to sleep considering I have class in 6 hours. I had planned to study for that class tonight, but every time I talk to my parents, I lose all my focus. I just get so worked up about things that it becomes impossible for me to do my work. That's really a problem. I need to explain this to them, but again, they aren't very likely to understand that either. While I can slack off most of the time, there are just some things for which that doesn't work...like when I have to turn in something instead of just studying for a quiz. I need the time to work on the shit. I can't fake that. Argh.
I don't know. Maybe I should just read some more. I say "I don't know" way too often. But it's true. There are a lot of things I don't have answers for. And I feel like that isn't always my fault. A lot of the time, I do have answers but fear that others may see them as the wrong ones. But with this--with being trans--it's completely different. It's something that I just don't worry about when it comes to the opinions of other people. I know that this is what is right. This is what I want. I can't stress that enough for my parents. This is who I am. If they could only see how living like this has improved things for me, then maybe they'd get it. But they are stuck several hundred miles away and have been for the past four years, so it's easy to see why they think that this is unexpected and doesn't make sense. I don't think they understand that I am definitely not the same person who left for college several years ago. How do people forget things like that? Were they really the same people as they were in high school when they graduated from college? They might have been. My dad never left home. My mom transferred from Michigan State after a year. Maybe they never changed. I don't know. But I grew up a whole lot when I realized what kind of world was out there. I had an idea, but I really didn't know what to expect. I knew things would be different. They were. And things just started to make so much sense. I am so much happier now than I have ever been. I can honestly say that. As lame as it may sound, I've finally found myself. And that just kicks ass.
I feel like I repeat myself a lot. I know I do. But sometimes I need that. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I'm the one that matters. Sometimes I worry way too much about how other people are doing that I forget to take care of myself. I guess that's the vice of my chosen profession. If it's not, it should be.
It's past 4 AM, for those of you who REALLY need to know. ;)
I ended up at Eat N Park tonight with good people. I had a great time, even though I barely said anything all night. Just being there was enough for me. At first it didn't feel like it should have been. I felt like more should have been going on between people. But that's not what tonight was about. It was about being part of that group. It was about just being together without worrying about saying anything or doing anything. It was good. And I'm glad I was able to recognize that.
I'm getting a little tired. I should probably sleep. I know I keep saying this.
I have no filter right now, it seems.
Right now? lol
Yes, I rarely use knives. I'll stab a fork into the meat and eat it like that. It's not even something that I think about, unless I'm in some really fancy restaurant where I have to be all self-conscious.
I'll probably say something that's completely inappropriate in the context of the conversation, and I may not pick up on forced subtlety. However, I am great at picking up the things you DON'T know you are conveying. It's easy to tell with things like that because you can't hide them. They are pretty much the same for everyone. You can't hide things like that because you have no idea that you are doing them. It's kind of cool, the science behind body language. It's a valuable skill. Yet I still manage to mess up basic things from time to time. It happens.
Oh yeah, and sometimes I just have no idea what the fuck to say. A lot of the time. Small talk is almost impossible. But there are some times when things are completely fine and I can talk about anything.
I'm sure there are other ridiculous things that I do that I'm just not remembering. Nothing to worry about, really. Except those random panic attacks, but that hasn't happened in a while. I'd like to think that I know why.
Alright, I'm actually going to be now. I think I need something profound at the end here.
-------------
You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. --Palahniuk
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