Sometimes I want to die.

Even this title is triggering, so this is your only warning.  Suicidal thoughts are not uncommon amongst trans people.  But that’s not because of mental deficiencies.  It’s mostly because of how society treats us, how the media portrays us, and peoples opinions of us.  When I started my transition, things seemed to be going ok, people were surprisingly supportive.  It seemed like the ones I told were happy for me with the exception of a select few.  I was scared, but hopeful.  Determined yet skeptical.  Things were looking up.  But as well as it was going, things quickly changed.

After one conversation with my exes father, step mother and sister (who was formerly supportive of me), my exes attitude completely changed.  She was no longer supportive, even seeming to be somewhat resentful in every conversation after she got back.  She even seemed disgusted by me.  Someone who said they would be supportive and promised such to my family suddenly no longer there.  As painful as this was, at the time, I still had my friends supporting me.  Encouraging me to not give up, telling me to discover myself, be my true self, live as I really am.  I took that advice to heart.

I met someone who saw in me something she wanted to protect and lift up.  It helped so so much.  I started to open up for the first time in my life.  She showed me that it is ok to show vulnerability.  I started to discover who I truly was and be proud of that, to not be ashamed of who and what I am.  At first my friends were showing support.  But as the announcement of my “transness” faded, so did a lot of their support.  Not everyone has been lost.  And I know, it is true that only true friends will stick around.  But the loss is still felt and still significant.  It still hurts.  Especially when you at first hear them cheer you on, then they become silent.  When confronting some of them, they say things that make you think you are disgusting them, that you being yourself is bothersome to them.

Cutting more ties every day.  Everyday that I show who I am, post about something I believe in, show that vulnerability, someone decides that its enough and spits in my face.   Trans people are killed everyday due to the things people dislike or feel disgusted about with me.  About the things they argue with me about when I don’t even bring up the argument in the first place.  It can be as simple as a post I share.

During this “transition” from a positive experience to all this negativity, I have had tons of self doubt, depression, dysphoria about my body.  In the beginning it was manageable with therapy.  Now it seems every time I put myself out there, someone wants to shove me and my opinions back in the closet.  As if the message I get is that I don’t get to exist.  That my opinions are invalid and stupid for thinking that society can and should change.  Every day that I challenge someone’s perceptions, someone has to be so close minded and bitch about something I never even argued with them about.  Are the majority of people completely unwilling to challenge their hangups and preferences?  To expand their thinking and just for a moment, see through someone else’s eyes without saying that someone is being overly sensitive.

I am tired, scared, and feeling very alone.  I am withdrawing into myself again as I once was.  I no longer want to hear or see the hate or refusal to understand.  Yes I am opinionated, yes I believe in things that challenge most peoples limits and perceptions.  Because I want to see change, I want to be in a world that is more accepting of people like me, where I don’t have to be scared to be who I am.  Where I don’t have to be scared to show my vulnerability.  For every negative interaction, I withdraw more from friends, family, potential experiences.  I say less, I talk less, I share less, I live less.

Alone in my head left with my thoughts, shown that I can’t be who I am without the threat of harassment, hate, or death.  I can’t put myself out there to find potential friends.  I am shoved into the closet where the only thoughts left are if it’s worth it.  Is it worth trying?  Is it worth living as I truly am or being miserable.  Either misery seems just as bad.  Is the only answer just removing myself from the picture all together?   I know life is not suppose to be easy.  Everyone has their own individual challenges.  I won’t compare my torment to others.  But I am reaching a point where I wonder if its even worth trying anymore.  If I am not accepted as who I truly am, and the person I was before wanted to die bc of being trapped in the wrong person, then what place do I have?  What am I doing here other than wasting resources.

I know suicide is not the answer.  To those that still care, who are still here, it would hurt them.  I would hurt them by removing myself from their lives.  I will acknowledge that I have helped and continue to help those that are left around me.  I do not think the things that I do are nearly enough for them.  I do not think the things that I do are special.  I just don’t want them to feel the pain that I do.  I want to show them love, that life doesn’t have to be what I am constantly shown, that others do care.  In turn this should be advice for myself from the very people I help.  I do listen to it, I do hear it, and I do logically know that it is right.  Emotionally however, this hardly gives me solace.  I wish it weren’t this way.  There are times where those special people in my life show me that life can be special, can be a positive experience.  But the volume of negativity tends to drown out their voices over time.

Maybe withdrawing and only speaking with those that actually care will be helpful and reduce the volume of negativity both inside of me and outside.  I am willing to give it a chance.  But my willingness to share is fleeting.  I hate it, but when I feel this way, I just stop speaking to everyone.  I am afraid that eventually someone will find disgust in me.  I fear someone will change their mind about me and show the negativity, the hate, etc.  It’s hard to shake the fear when its happened often.  I don’t think I am able to share anymore.

 

 

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Energy

I haven’t written here in a while.  And all the stuff I’ve written on fb will be more of the same here.  But I don’t care.  This is the story of me.  I am happy when there are those who chose to read my words, as sappy as they are.  Happiness is not a feeling I’ve known.  Not true happiness anyway.  Not until now.

A lot of you already know and have probably grown weary of hearing about my wonderful new relationship.  I am gushing and continue to do so.  Connection of this type is something I’ve not experienced before.  There are parts of me I do not share with the world.  We all have those parts deep inside that we keep to ourselves.  Those parts we don’t share, even with our partners.  To bear it all to one person takes a lot of courage.  For someone to see you, see through you, see all parts of you, is a scary thing.  But it doesn’t have to be.

Everyone had an energy about them.  We feel it when we feel that love of a friend, that familiarity with people we see and look forward to seeing.  We feel it when we get that gut feeling that something is not right about someone, or when we get the creeps from someone.  The first thing I felt when I met her was a strong energy.  One that was kind of intimidating but in a sense, inviting once we started talking.  Then it became a feeling I could trust.  There was already a connection forming even then.  Then I asked her for a hug, a cuddle, etc.  Someone I didn’t know well, someone who projected this confidence, holding me.  Helping me feel like things will be ok.

We both started to have a deeper connection.  She felt she wanted to protect me.  We started a platonic, mother/daughter dynamic.  It was more than a friendship, a deeper one that was very nurturing and caring.  But it was still a friendship.  She had other relationships.  I noticed how she looked at others and I could feel the energy between them.  I stop there and start to compare the energy exchange with her relationships then and the energy with me.

When she looks at me now, I melt a little.  I feel my body ease, my eyes soften.  I could see how she eased when she looks at me, the smile that comes across her face.  It was similar but different to another romantic relationship she had before.  I wondered what it was.  I think I now know.  The energy we have exchanged has brought us closer.  It’s as if I can tell what’s on her mind emotionally at times.  I can see how she looks at me, what goes through her head.  Yes, when she looks at me, it’s a much different feeling to past relationships.  It’s hard to describe it, but now that I know it’s there, I don’t have to be told I’m special to her.  I can feel it through my whole being.  I have never experienced that from someone else.  The way she looks at me is not at all the same as it is to others.  I see that now, VERY clearly.

It’s mushy, gushy, cliche and sticky sweet love stuff.  But I don’t care if it bothers others.  I want to share every happy moment.  I want to show the world that we have found something special together.

us

I love us.  And I want to share the rest of my life with this wonderful person.  I want to stay in this happiness and look forward to things I never thought I would want, but welcome with open arms.

 

 

Reflection

As I was cleaning up my desk today, I found something I had wrote on several months ago: 

I feel alone, I feel I am an irritation to others, I want to cry, I don’t want to work on anything, My throat hurts, my head hurts, I want to go home, lock the door and hide from the world.  

A few months ago I was not okay.  I was hurt, felt abandoned, felt like I had no place to turn to and I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it.  Those feelings seem distant and fleeting.  I still get depressed from time to time, but no where near what it use to be.  I have an abundance of love around me from friends, family and extended family.

Love lost meaning to me for a long time.  Before my first marriage, I had dated and gone out with several girls, but nothing that lasted.  I wanted to find that kind of love from someone.  The kind that is unconditional, the kind you get from someone special.  I thought I had found that.  For the first few years of the relationship I though I understood what love was.  Eventually that faded and the I love you’s became habit and lost all meaning.  Despite that I was still willing to try.  To try and make things better, to deepen the feelings and make them meaningful.  I am not perfect, but I sacrificed a big part of myself to try and make that work.

I realized that its hard to love someone when you do not love yourself.  I started trying to change that.  I started trying to accept who I really am.  Apparently this was too much for the person I was with.  She did not love me despite my flaws.  I was “too much” or “she could not handle someone like me”.  It made me realize that the love she said she had for me was not really there.  I was destroyed for a long time.  Lost and didn’t know what to do.  I wanted to just be alone and suffer.

Luckily I could not let things stay that way.  I went out, tried to meet people at social groups.  Sure it was a BDSM group, but I had to explore the other parts of me that I had hidden away to please someone else.  I started talking to some people.  One person saw I needed help and decided to do something.  So far she has helped me to redefine what love is.  This may or may not have been her intention, but that was the result.  Her family and friends, her unconditional love and affection have helped me realize that I haven’t really known love for a long time.  It’s helped me in my other relationships and helped in building others.  Talking to other people seems easier now with a bit of the self love I’ve gained.

I still have self doubt and some depression.  I know I am not out of the woods yet.  But instead of stumbling in the dark, I have tools to see through and a person to help guide me on to brighter pastures.

Shaping

I’ve thought a lot about this lately and have many questions running around my head.  Did I ever really grow up?  What does being an adult really mean other than having added responsibilities?

Experience.

Not easily trusting others, remembering the past so that you don’t repeat the same mistakes (or remembering after the fact), knowing generally what to expect from common situations, knowing what is expected.  Its experiences we have had coupled with how we learned to deal with them (for better or worse).  Our childhood experiences shape how we are as adults.  Especially our quirks.  I wonder to myself what did I experience to want, need or act a certain way.

We are all born with genetic personality traits.  How that is developed as we grow up, determines what kind of personality we have.  You can have a outgoing personality genetically, but if you were abused mentally or physically, the personality traits will be vastly different as opposed to not being abused.

Experience shapes and continues to shape who we are.  The good thing about experience is that it can change.  We are constantly remolded by experience.  Our past scars can be healed through better experiences.  Bad memories can stay as they are, memories.  New experiences replace or overlap the bad ones and can help shape you.

Its often hard to see the forest for the trees.  But when you realize that your experiences are not helping you, its best to find new things to experience.  Those bad memories don’t have to haunt you forever.  They will never leave you, but they don’t have to be the only thing that determines who you are.

Not going anywhere

When I think back on the past 6 months, I think wow…I went through a lot of shit in a short time.  I survived.  I get aftershocks of all the things that have happened and some things I will not mention here.  I am still affected by them.  But I continue to be here and breathe.  I have accepted that I am a person who some people will not accept, and that is ok.  I don’t need to change who I am or be someone I am not to please others.  I just need to be genuine to myself and just be.

It’s an odd feeling to have confidence.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not oozing with self empowerment.  But I have confidence where none existed before.  Even the little I have gained is a strange feeling.  I love this feeling, I can feel it in the way I carry myself.  I can really tell when I am not feeling very confident instead of it all being a blur.  I know who I am.  I know what I like and what I hate.  I am not ashamed of it.  Although, I do hide some of it because others might not be able to handle it or may get offended.  If they find out so be it.  I am not going to hide it.  Hell if someone asks I will tell them.  But I am not just going to give that.  People get uncomfortable with things they do not understand.  I am not here for others comfort.  I love my friends and family, but I can’t change who I am.  All I can do is just not bring it up unless it’s important.

I have went through and continue to go through lots of trials.  I am happy I survived and continue to keep on going forward.  I am still dumbfounded by the difference from being one thing most of my life, and now not hiding anymore.

Colors

My attitude used to be screw everything, everything sucks, nothing is worth putting effort into, etc.   My attitude used to reflect my apathy. The world used to be a very dark place for me. Always expecting something bad to happen and then saying “yep I knew  things would go to shit”.  For most of my life I have never been a positive person. My attitude was reflected through the music I listen to, the clothes I wore, how I carry myself, and how I treated the things that were mine.   I felt like shit I looked like shit.  The music although I still enjoy it to this day,  was never positive.  If you look at all my t-shirts now,  they are all still black.  There was no color in my life. Not just talking about clothes. They’re often was not happiness in my life. I might have been laughing but I wasn’t happy. I drank,  smoked, put myself at risk of injury, and put myself through mental hell.  I never considered that I could make my life much different, much happier.

What is being happy?  Is it comfort to be the person you are.  Takes a lot of confidence to be yourself in a world where you’re constantly told to be something else.   Not just told nearly forced into being something you may not be.  From someone who had very little confidence and hated everything, it’s a hard pill to swallow.  Being who you are shouldn’t be that way.  It’s taken me a long time to realize who I am.  I’m still discovering it everyday.  I’m finding out that not everything sucks. Good things can come from putting effort into something. New experiences can lead to so much self-discovery. Yeah I won’t like everything, but I’m no longer holding myself back.

There’s color in my life. Flavor to the things I do and see. I’m getting more colorful clothes, listening to more diverse music and liking it, I’m learning to carry myself with more confidence, I don’t treat my stuff or myself like they’re worthless.  It took a lot of life changes to make me stop being so negative. Often times it’s hard to not be that way. But there are so many reminders everywhere that I’m paying attention to finally. I am beautiful, I am confident, I am worthy. Color offers variety to life. Not just clothes, but also music, experiencing new things you’ve never done before.   Not every day is good but every time I write here, I feel that things are getting better.  More often than not I’m happy. I have most of everything I need. The things that I don’t have I’m working on. There is now color to my inner flame.