Not really a followup to the last post entitled "Strength", but that's what this is all about
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Mara says that I'm the strongest person she knows, and that is a big part of her love for me
I don't often feel that I'm very strong, I'm me not because I feel strong, but because I needed to survive, and that other version of me wouldn't have lasted too much longer...... is that strength?.... I don't know
At the beginning of this year I was dating a man, and socially, it was easy. People saw us, and unless they remarked on our height (he was 6'3" or something like that, I'm 5'10" flat footed so even when I wore heels I was still shorter), we were essentially invisible. We fit the expected narrative, a man and a woman, they had no need to look at us closer. It was easy to feel like we fit into the world.
I thought back then that it was a possibility, and I know quite certainly now, that this was / is a large factor in my attraction to men. When I spend time with a good male friend of mine, who is also quite tall, I also feel that cloak of invisibility upon me. People take us for a couple, because after all, that's what men and women are if they are spending time alone aren't they?, and never look twice at us. And it soothes me, helps me feel like I fit in this world
I sometimes feel like an imposter....
But I'm in love with a woman, and I hope to spend my life with this woman, and I never in a million years thought that her gender could have such an effect on me
When we're together, we're a lesbian couple. People look longer, or look twice, at non traditional couples. Then they notice me, as if they are seeing through me. They see her, clearly cis, clearly.... normal.... so they expect to see a man next to her, and they look deeper at me, and they stare, and they wonder, and I feel it all
even she is starting to notice it, and it brings her pain for me, because she loves me
she feels I'm strong for living my truth every day. I feel she is the strong one for voluntarily entering my truth, supporting me in it, going through it, seeing this darker side of the world through my eyes and my pain, something she never needed to see or to know. It may affect the way she feels about people close to her, it may affect the way she connects with some members of her family as our lives intertwine more and more and she finds that perhaps, some of them will not accept me, will laugh at me, at us, behind smiling eyes. I don't feel right in affecting her this way even though it is her choice, and she does choose me, choose us
"not loving you is not an option" she says to me
she is remarkably strong, she has to be to be visible with me, and it seems that I need to find a new strength as well
because being with a woman, as a trans woman, can often be a reminder of how the world still doesn't see me as an actual woman. Especially when it comes to men, and how they interact with us. I have to put up with so much less shit than she does in many ways, I'm not objectified in the same way as she is, subjected to drunken pick ups, men don't automatically assume I'll sleep with them if I talk to them. All of this of course assuming they know I'm trans, and if they don't, well, then there is real danger and fear for me, they treat me like they would treat any other woman they are sexually interested in, then they *figure me out*, and anything could happen at that point, including death.
I should be happy that I'm not subjected to the same patriarchal bullshit shouldn't I?, but I'm not. Each time the the world treats me differently than it would any other (real) woman, and now that I'm with a (real) woman I'm reminded more often, that the world doesn't actually see me as a woman. The world treats women like shit in so many ways, and many of those ways are not applied to me, because I'm not actually a woman in their eyes, I'm "other", or worse, a man dressed as a woman, pretending
something to be feared
it's a (real) woman's cisgendered privilege to suffer true misogyny, how fucked is that?, and how even more fucked is it that I want to feel what she feels, what all the other (real) women feel.... so I can be reinforced by society that I actually am.... a woman
I want to be able to flirt and accept flirting without fear for my safety, or my sanity. I want to be able to make light jokes about sexuality, without having people recoil from me as they picture themselves actually *touching* someone (something?) like me. I don't want to be the only woman in a circle that a man shoots his hand out for a handshake, when he has given all the other woman our classic french kiss-kiss thing that we do (and this has happened too often to me), or have the only other girl in a group that I happen to be in referred to as the *only* woman present. I want to be able to feel safe and accepted in a sexual space, especially a queer one, yet even in the queer spaces, I'm still othered. I want to be able to have everything that she has, that I see her enjoy, yet, I can’t. Even though she accepts me fully as a woman, and truly and honestly knows me to be one, the way that the world treats the two of us differently, especially when we’re together, is a reminder that I’m not the same as her, a recurring, gnawing, reminder. A slap in the face, a knife to the heart
I want to be completely accepted as a woman, for who I am, and what I am, in all situations, but let's face it girl, that's never going to happen in your lifetime. Maybe one day, and maybe I can do what I can to get us to that point, but I'll never get to benefit from it
For the first time ever this morning, I felt dysphoria about my body. I am firmly in the camp of genitals do not equal gender, yet when I looked at my naked body in the mirror, I winced, I didn't like what I saw. But this is a symptom of all the microaggressions I've been experiencing lately, as the tall somewhat-more-masculine part of a visible lesbian relationship. After all, if I got that surgery, it wouldn't make any difference in the end, people don't look in your underwear before deciding how to gender you, but seeing myself in the mirror this morning was kind of tough, and I didn't like that feeling. I could sink tens of thousands of dollars into facial feminization surgeries, yet there would always be that person that could clock me, could remind me that yes, I am different, wrong, to be feared, an other. Plus, my mental and spiritual well being would become tied into not being seen as trans, and as soon as I'm seen as trans, I fear it would destroy me
That's not the strength I want, because it's not strength, it's hiding, it's avoiding the problem all together, which is entirely my right to do so, but it's not the path I want
but at the end of the day, even with the extra challenges that it brings, I love being her girlfriend, and she loves being mine, and she's there for me as much as I am for her. Neither of us will be able to hide, and my truth will affect her, and change her, and she knows this, and yet, she still chooses me
chooses us
and that makes me one of the luckiest girls in the world
Tuesday 28 October 2014
Friday 24 October 2014
houses and rings......
Kind of a followup, a part 2, to two other unrelated posts.
Please note this occurred last weekend, before my anxiety shitfest
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It happened, I'm still unsure as to why, I've been trying to process it but my mind often wanders off in over analysis, twisty paths, and I forget the point of what I was trying to get to.
I'll start from the beginning
Still having trouble selling the house, so we decide to fix up the basement, the room that we fear is turning people off. Half of a 20 year old carpet directly on the foundation, torn at one edge, old and ugly, stained, gross. If the room had furniture in it, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad, but we work with what we have don't we?
Mara and I return to the house, and I'm tense, I don't know how I'll feel while being there. Our first visit, over a month ago now, tore at me, made me see how stuck in the past I still was, the mail that had piled up for Becca hurt me deeply, being in that place, standing within his story, no longer being a part of it or even wanting it, but feeling it leak out of the pores of the house and smothering me.... it was a lot to take
We pick up our supplies at the hardware store, and while tense, I'm greatly enjoying myself. I've been through these actions before with past loves, and again, this time it felt different, everything feels different with her, more.... real.... is it her or is it me?, I think the truth is somewhere in the middle
We pull into the driveway. Enter the house. Bring the supplies into the basement and get to work.
We kiss and hug each other often
and I realize that I'm feeling pretty good, the weight that I had felt last time I was there wasn't as prevalent, in fact, I didn't notice it most of the time, a twinge here and there, but other than that, it's just a house, one that needs work, and we're doing it.
after yet another run to get missing supplies, I check the mailbox, junk, flyers, but finally, nothing for Becca
I smile, and I give her thanks
We take a beer break, sitting on the front porch. I look out over his old world, feeling the feels, seeing how distant it all is to me now. What I'm feeling inside is simply calm, knowledge that the work is worth it, and a deep love for the woman sitting by my side.
we connect, we open up, show our souls to each other. This is not new for us, our love is .... somewhat .... unique .... the type that hits you like a truck, and not just once in a while, or when you first meet, but this truck, it seems to hit us fairly often, even now, a couple months in.
the energy in the space changes
something inside me changes
and I'm still not sure what
I look down, my heart is heavy, I feel tears behind my eyes struggling to be released. She places an arm around my shoulder, her hand resting on my neck, she sees something has occurred, I see the concern in her eyes. She asks me, what just happened?, are you OK?
I don't reply
unknown to her, I'm removing my ring
I say yes, something has happened, and I hold up the ring to show her, the ring that is no longer on my finger
she doesn't know what to say, neither do I, and the tears slide down my face, not tears of sadness, or even happiness, just emotion, raw and unfettered
I hold the ring between my fingers, looking at it as though it's the first time I've done so....
I kiss it gently
and I thank the one that gave it to me
she pulls my body against hers and holds me, and I allow myself to be held
and a part of me lets go, of the past, of that story, of Becca
the house becomes just that, a house. We put our love into it, we shift the energy of the place, I firmly believe that places hold specific energies of the past within, and now, we take a step towards banishing the old, replacing it with the new
we do more work, we sit in the front and drink and talk, dreams of our future, we've started making promises to each other, using words like forever, always, we chat with our neighbor, we revel in the love we share, bringing light into such a dark place
then we are done what we can for the day, with plans to return soon to finish the work
and it was a beautiful day
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I still hold guilt towards what she went through with me, and maybe I always will. I still have a penance to pay. Amazingly, Mara helped me through that as well and guided me in finding what I must do, and I will
Please note this occurred last weekend, before my anxiety shitfest
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It happened, I'm still unsure as to why, I've been trying to process it but my mind often wanders off in over analysis, twisty paths, and I forget the point of what I was trying to get to.
I'll start from the beginning
Still having trouble selling the house, so we decide to fix up the basement, the room that we fear is turning people off. Half of a 20 year old carpet directly on the foundation, torn at one edge, old and ugly, stained, gross. If the room had furniture in it, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad, but we work with what we have don't we?
Mara and I return to the house, and I'm tense, I don't know how I'll feel while being there. Our first visit, over a month ago now, tore at me, made me see how stuck in the past I still was, the mail that had piled up for Becca hurt me deeply, being in that place, standing within his story, no longer being a part of it or even wanting it, but feeling it leak out of the pores of the house and smothering me.... it was a lot to take
We pick up our supplies at the hardware store, and while tense, I'm greatly enjoying myself. I've been through these actions before with past loves, and again, this time it felt different, everything feels different with her, more.... real.... is it her or is it me?, I think the truth is somewhere in the middle
We pull into the driveway. Enter the house. Bring the supplies into the basement and get to work.
We kiss and hug each other often
and I realize that I'm feeling pretty good, the weight that I had felt last time I was there wasn't as prevalent, in fact, I didn't notice it most of the time, a twinge here and there, but other than that, it's just a house, one that needs work, and we're doing it.
after yet another run to get missing supplies, I check the mailbox, junk, flyers, but finally, nothing for Becca
I smile, and I give her thanks
We take a beer break, sitting on the front porch. I look out over his old world, feeling the feels, seeing how distant it all is to me now. What I'm feeling inside is simply calm, knowledge that the work is worth it, and a deep love for the woman sitting by my side.
we connect, we open up, show our souls to each other. This is not new for us, our love is .... somewhat .... unique .... the type that hits you like a truck, and not just once in a while, or when you first meet, but this truck, it seems to hit us fairly often, even now, a couple months in.
the energy in the space changes
something inside me changes
and I'm still not sure what
I look down, my heart is heavy, I feel tears behind my eyes struggling to be released. She places an arm around my shoulder, her hand resting on my neck, she sees something has occurred, I see the concern in her eyes. She asks me, what just happened?, are you OK?
I don't reply
unknown to her, I'm removing my ring
I say yes, something has happened, and I hold up the ring to show her, the ring that is no longer on my finger
she doesn't know what to say, neither do I, and the tears slide down my face, not tears of sadness, or even happiness, just emotion, raw and unfettered
I hold the ring between my fingers, looking at it as though it's the first time I've done so....
I kiss it gently
and I thank the one that gave it to me
she pulls my body against hers and holds me, and I allow myself to be held
and a part of me lets go, of the past, of that story, of Becca
the house becomes just that, a house. We put our love into it, we shift the energy of the place, I firmly believe that places hold specific energies of the past within, and now, we take a step towards banishing the old, replacing it with the new
we do more work, we sit in the front and drink and talk, dreams of our future, we've started making promises to each other, using words like forever, always, we chat with our neighbor, we revel in the love we share, bringing light into such a dark place
then we are done what we can for the day, with plans to return soon to finish the work
and it was a beautiful day
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I still hold guilt towards what she went through with me, and maybe I always will. I still have a penance to pay. Amazingly, Mara helped me through that as well and guided me in finding what I must do, and I will
dark shadow
it really is
as was made obvious by my last post, it's been a tough couple of days. Said party that I've been invited to by my family triggered the everloving fuck out of me (yes by the way, that is how I talk, mm'kay?)
anxiety is a voice in my mind, a voice that I've never quite learned to control, or shut off, or even embrace and say "that's OK" to, like I've learned that you need to do with negative emotions.
In fact, many of the negative emotions that I feel often circle down into the bugbear of anxiety. Jealousy, insecurity, feelings of abandonment, being alone, they all seem to wake it up, wake up that demon, that dark shadow that always seems to be there, even when I'm doing well, I know it's there, taunting me, waiting for me to slip up in any way so it can lunge out and take my soul in it's filthy claws and drag me down in this neverending spiral of panic, fear, hell.
It digs it's claws into my brain, slowly, so I feel every millimeter of tearing, of twisting. It holds me in it's thrall, it's hot breath at my ear, black saliva from it's lips dripping on my shoulder, it's tongue, swirling, throat, gurgling, rasping, as it prepares it's onslaught
it can take any small thing, whatever happened to trigger me, even if the trigger was barely noticeable, and it will repeat it to me. Quietly at first. I feel the thought, raise an eyebrow, shake it away. Then the words change, slightly, and the thought hits me a tiny bit harder. This continues, ever worsening, and my resolve starts to crumble, I hold on as best as I can, but it always wins in the end
and it laughs, as it crawls into my brain, grabs a glass of nightshade, and continues it's work
it makes me doubt everything, feel panic over situations that have never occurred, nor are likely to occur, yet in every story it tells me, there is the possibility of it occurring, and that's what makes it so powerful. Similar to how they say the best lie is mostly truth with just one twist, the demon uses this against me, and once I've accepted one small lie as truth, it piles on another one, and another one, until every single decision I've made in my life feels like a mistake, that I'm a fool, that I'm horrible, terrible, stupid, worthless
In the past, this demon has shut me down, for days, or even months. When it gets inside me, I withdraw from the world. I usually am not fond of being alone in any way, I'll put up with it, but ugh, I feel like I'm wasting my time when I'm killing time alone, but when it's living within me, I want to do nothing else. I pull away from friends, I stop communicating with people, my emotions slowly disappear and I become cold, robotic even. I sit in my place, I stare at the TV that I'm not watching, play the music that I'm not listening to, not caring enough to care one way or another. I play games that don't actually require any thought or attention, just to make the time go by, and to have something to click on.
Eventually I begin to break down, and I'll reach out to someone, and as soon as that choice is made, the little fucker throws everything it has at me. I often change my mind, put the phone down, turn off chat on gmail or facebook, but eventually, I manage to make that contact, and that my friends, that is the only thing that can quell the demon, expunge him.
It's not as simple as talking to someone about how the day is, no, I need to bare myself, I need to open myself up to allow true light in, light of love, of support, of understanding and empathy. Each of those rays help burn it out of me, sometimes it's quick as someone manages to give me the key to the door it's barricaded behind, sometimes it takes longer as the light keeps chipping away at that door, but either way, at one point, after tears, fear, worry, pain, it leaves.
But it's never far away
Over the past two days, as I was going through this, even though it was a terrible assault (that had actually been building since last weekend even though I didn't realize the little bastard had found me again), I wanted to shut myself down, I wanted to hide, cancel all the wonderful plans I had over the next week, and just curl up underneath my bed and stare, turn off, disconnect
but I didn't
I talked to Mara even though I was terrified she would see me as weak, or lose love for me. I reached out to a couple of friends who surprised me with their support, and last night, thankfully, I was handed the key by a wonderful man that I'm still getting to know at a deeper level, even though he is truly part of my family and I a part of his, we have a long road to travel he and I, and while we have spent time together, I think that yesterday was the first real step of what may be a wonderful journey. He quelled my fears, accepted my anxiety (insanity) and told me that it is not something that needs an apology for, showed me more realistic future events, discussed our weird and unique life together, helped me feel more at one with everyone.
and it was quite beautiful, and I love him and thank him for it, and I feel like myself today
but.....
it's still there, it's always there, and it doesn't like it when someone hands me a key, and I've felt it crawling around just behind me, in the corner of my eye, looking for another way in, waiting for me to slip up, so it can once again dig itself into me, cackling, screeching, laughing.
I leave you with a simple breakdown of the word fear that I saw recently as a status update on a friends' page, think about it, it's quite powerful.
False Evidence Appearing Real
as was made obvious by my last post, it's been a tough couple of days. Said party that I've been invited to by my family triggered the everloving fuck out of me (yes by the way, that is how I talk, mm'kay?)
anxiety is a voice in my mind, a voice that I've never quite learned to control, or shut off, or even embrace and say "that's OK" to, like I've learned that you need to do with negative emotions.
In fact, many of the negative emotions that I feel often circle down into the bugbear of anxiety. Jealousy, insecurity, feelings of abandonment, being alone, they all seem to wake it up, wake up that demon, that dark shadow that always seems to be there, even when I'm doing well, I know it's there, taunting me, waiting for me to slip up in any way so it can lunge out and take my soul in it's filthy claws and drag me down in this neverending spiral of panic, fear, hell.
It digs it's claws into my brain, slowly, so I feel every millimeter of tearing, of twisting. It holds me in it's thrall, it's hot breath at my ear, black saliva from it's lips dripping on my shoulder, it's tongue, swirling, throat, gurgling, rasping, as it prepares it's onslaught
it can take any small thing, whatever happened to trigger me, even if the trigger was barely noticeable, and it will repeat it to me. Quietly at first. I feel the thought, raise an eyebrow, shake it away. Then the words change, slightly, and the thought hits me a tiny bit harder. This continues, ever worsening, and my resolve starts to crumble, I hold on as best as I can, but it always wins in the end
and it laughs, as it crawls into my brain, grabs a glass of nightshade, and continues it's work
it makes me doubt everything, feel panic over situations that have never occurred, nor are likely to occur, yet in every story it tells me, there is the possibility of it occurring, and that's what makes it so powerful. Similar to how they say the best lie is mostly truth with just one twist, the demon uses this against me, and once I've accepted one small lie as truth, it piles on another one, and another one, until every single decision I've made in my life feels like a mistake, that I'm a fool, that I'm horrible, terrible, stupid, worthless
In the past, this demon has shut me down, for days, or even months. When it gets inside me, I withdraw from the world. I usually am not fond of being alone in any way, I'll put up with it, but ugh, I feel like I'm wasting my time when I'm killing time alone, but when it's living within me, I want to do nothing else. I pull away from friends, I stop communicating with people, my emotions slowly disappear and I become cold, robotic even. I sit in my place, I stare at the TV that I'm not watching, play the music that I'm not listening to, not caring enough to care one way or another. I play games that don't actually require any thought or attention, just to make the time go by, and to have something to click on.
Eventually I begin to break down, and I'll reach out to someone, and as soon as that choice is made, the little fucker throws everything it has at me. I often change my mind, put the phone down, turn off chat on gmail or facebook, but eventually, I manage to make that contact, and that my friends, that is the only thing that can quell the demon, expunge him.
It's not as simple as talking to someone about how the day is, no, I need to bare myself, I need to open myself up to allow true light in, light of love, of support, of understanding and empathy. Each of those rays help burn it out of me, sometimes it's quick as someone manages to give me the key to the door it's barricaded behind, sometimes it takes longer as the light keeps chipping away at that door, but either way, at one point, after tears, fear, worry, pain, it leaves.
But it's never far away
Over the past two days, as I was going through this, even though it was a terrible assault (that had actually been building since last weekend even though I didn't realize the little bastard had found me again), I wanted to shut myself down, I wanted to hide, cancel all the wonderful plans I had over the next week, and just curl up underneath my bed and stare, turn off, disconnect
but I didn't
I talked to Mara even though I was terrified she would see me as weak, or lose love for me. I reached out to a couple of friends who surprised me with their support, and last night, thankfully, I was handed the key by a wonderful man that I'm still getting to know at a deeper level, even though he is truly part of my family and I a part of his, we have a long road to travel he and I, and while we have spent time together, I think that yesterday was the first real step of what may be a wonderful journey. He quelled my fears, accepted my anxiety (insanity) and told me that it is not something that needs an apology for, showed me more realistic future events, discussed our weird and unique life together, helped me feel more at one with everyone.
and it was quite beautiful, and I love him and thank him for it, and I feel like myself today
but.....
it's still there, it's always there, and it doesn't like it when someone hands me a key, and I've felt it crawling around just behind me, in the corner of my eye, looking for another way in, waiting for me to slip up, so it can once again dig itself into me, cackling, screeching, laughing.
I leave you with a simple breakdown of the word fear that I saw recently as a status update on a friends' page, think about it, it's quite powerful.
False Evidence Appearing Real
Thursday 23 October 2014
why is this getting harder?
This may come out as a victim puke, so be it, and fuck you if you have a problem with it
Why does it feel like being trans is getting harder?
Last year I'd have fucking strangers come right up to me and ask me about my gender, I knew it was wrong of them to do so, but I could take it, I would educate them, and go along my way shaking my head at them but still smiling
Now, one simple misgendering will set me off
and it just happened for the second time this week, and I felt so good about myself this morning in my gorgeous outfit, first time I've worn a dress in a few weeks, and this motherfucker calls me Mr
I wanted to cause him pain, pure, excruciating pain
why do things like this hurt me so much?, I'm usually such a powerful person, but now, any one little thing can pull me down. I can't give that power to others, but fuck, I'm fed up of feeling like a freak, like an other, an abomination, an abnormality
I wouldn't wish being trans on my worst enemy
I often forget that I'm trans, I forget I used to be him, male, guy, dude, asshole
and these little situations bring that back to the forefront of my mind, of my anxieties, and little by little, they slice my soul to bits
death of a thousand cuts
I have a costume party to go to this weekend with my new family, one in which I wont know anyone, and I'm terrified of being taken as a guy in a dress, a tranny, a faggot, a freak. I have no idea if this will happen, but my mind is making it happen over and over again, last night calmed me, then this morning, one little fucking thing happens and the fear is back, the anxiety
I feel disgusting now in my beautiful outfit, I want to rip it off and hide in jeans and a heavy sweater, hiding my body, they refuse to see it, why bother. I feel like an imposter, a man in a dress trying to fool the world, and they see through me, and laugh at me, at us, at all of us
the freaks
the sickos
the liars
the insane
and now I hate myself for feeling this way
Why does it feel like being trans is getting harder?
Last year I'd have fucking strangers come right up to me and ask me about my gender, I knew it was wrong of them to do so, but I could take it, I would educate them, and go along my way shaking my head at them but still smiling
Now, one simple misgendering will set me off
and it just happened for the second time this week, and I felt so good about myself this morning in my gorgeous outfit, first time I've worn a dress in a few weeks, and this motherfucker calls me Mr
I wanted to cause him pain, pure, excruciating pain
why do things like this hurt me so much?, I'm usually such a powerful person, but now, any one little thing can pull me down. I can't give that power to others, but fuck, I'm fed up of feeling like a freak, like an other, an abomination, an abnormality
I wouldn't wish being trans on my worst enemy
I often forget that I'm trans, I forget I used to be him, male, guy, dude, asshole
and these little situations bring that back to the forefront of my mind, of my anxieties, and little by little, they slice my soul to bits
death of a thousand cuts
I have a costume party to go to this weekend with my new family, one in which I wont know anyone, and I'm terrified of being taken as a guy in a dress, a tranny, a faggot, a freak. I have no idea if this will happen, but my mind is making it happen over and over again, last night calmed me, then this morning, one little fucking thing happens and the fear is back, the anxiety
I feel disgusting now in my beautiful outfit, I want to rip it off and hide in jeans and a heavy sweater, hiding my body, they refuse to see it, why bother. I feel like an imposter, a man in a dress trying to fool the world, and they see through me, and laugh at me, at us, at all of us
the freaks
the sickos
the liars
the insane
and now I hate myself for feeling this way
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