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1 Part Trans Update + 1 Part Life Update

Hi there folks, here is my fashionably late blog post.

It feels like forever ago when I wrote my last post about self-loathing. Unironically, I started to feel that way again today, which reminded me I need to update this!

First- Trans stuff. I had TWO appointments between my last post and this one. The last post being January 21st and today being February 13th? That’s some fast stuff!
It was a lot of questions. Emotional questions. Factual questions. A lot of family oriented stuff was asked.
Now, I didn’t think it was going to bother me that much, because I’m not easily triggered by anything. But having to talk about my dad and the verbal abuse and neglect that I thought was normal…Kinda left me feeling upset. So for those going into therapy and are reading this?

Be ready. To tackle. Your demons. Because they’re going to come up. And these answers to these questions? They get discussed between your therapist and their supervisor. You need to be honest and truthful. Because you have to be mentally prepared to progress.

My next appointment is the 21st this month. I’ll be having a meeting with the therapist and her supervisor. :) I’ll let you know how that goes.

 

 

And for anyone that cares about my actual life? I have probably 85% moved forward from my previous relationship. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m keeping myself busy. I am going back to college part time as well as still working full time.

And I got myself this cutie internet boyfriend~
We met through mutual friends and have been aware of each other’s existence for like…four or something years. Prior to the break up, we were talking a lot and becoming closer.
Thanks Persona Team for giving us conversation! Haha! (STILL CAN’T WAIT FOR PERSONA 5 YOU GUYS)

But yea. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and it’s a little lonely that I’ll be at school and then visiting my cat at my ex’s house. No cuddles this year. :/

Long distance is hard. But…it can be worth it. :D

<3

 

~~HAPPY VALENTINE’S~~

6

Self-Loathing is my Curse

I don’t normally use the internet as a place to vent or rant. So this is your warning now to turn away and run as fast as you can, because it’s not a pretty sight past this text. This I can promise you.
Are you sure? Because I did warn you.
You’ll think differently of me if you didn’t already know this.
You asked for it.
Hi, I have self-loathing. You’ve probably seen my ego around- that’s my wonderful defense mechanism that tries to keep me safe from myself and from others. Ego says nice things about me. Ego accepts when nice things are said. But under that is really a torrential storm of self-hatred. I am my own worst bully and there is nothing a person can say to me that I haven’t told myself already. Or said worse.

Self-loathing doesn’t mean self-harm. I don’t hurt myself physically. I destroy my feelings and crush my inner voice. I put myself so far down and refuse help from those around me. Because I don’t deserve it. I think the kindness of others is pity or just fake.

I don’t say thank you when people compliment me. You’ll notice. I deflect. I ignore. I’ll even text thank you half heartedly (commonly this is often seen as, “gee thaaaankkkss”). I pass the compliment to someone I feel deserves it more. I push others away when I need them the most. I don’t want to text someone “Say nice things about me, so I can say thank you” because even though that is EXACTLY what I need to do…I don’t want to hear it either. I didn’t earn it. I didn’t deserve it.

So why am I choosing to expose the part of me I hate the most over facebook? For attention? For pity?
No, that is EXACTLY what I said I don’t want from you, fucking read it again.
My life is going through major changes. Everything about my life has been turned upside down. I have had some AMAZING friends be supportive and loving and caring and I hate myself for not being able to thank them properly all because I hate myself. I don’t feel I deserve the friendship and kindness I have been shown because I consider myself a terrible person.

I’m mean. I’m rude. I’m lazy. I’m unmotivated. I take the easy way out and run away from all my problems. I have trust issues when I meet new people- because I assume they will hate me and leave. Give up on me and leave. I’m afraid my current friends will give up on me and leave. Most of them have. And we’re ‘friends’ out of formality. I don’t expect those people to have read very far into this, if at all.

In any case, I absolutely hate who I am and what I’ve become. I am a 25, nearly 26 year old child who can’t cook or clean up after himself. I didn’t learn to drive until I was old enough to drink. I had no motivation to go to college until it was too late and I did miserably in high school. I have a college degree and a lot of debt in a field I got into because I thought it would be easy for me. And I was too prideful to stop myself from getting in too deep. The most consistent thing I’ve EVER had in my life was 8 years long. And that’s gone too. To me? I am pathetic. And I feel pathetic to write my sorrows to an internet post and hope some one cares to read. To expose myself to others and tell another person the shittiest parts of myself…isn’t brave. It’s sad.
I hate to tell any one, because for others…this is easy. My life could be worse. There is no contest when we start comparing. This is a battle that is easy for some people. But for me it’s a warzone. I have been told before by family not to be over dramatic on Facebook. And I shut down. No one wants to hear my problems. That why I put the disclaimer at the top.
I don’t know what I’m looking for here. Just to get it off my chest.
Normally, I’d write this and delete it. And keep it bottled up. But that’s part of what fucked me up in the first place.
And so there is no confusion. I don’t wish things were ‘easy’ or ‘different’. I wish I had the skills to pave a way for my future. A way to handle myself better. I wish for the motivation to change what I hate about myself instead of falling victim to sadness. And to myself.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I was going to say I’m okay and not to worry. But I am not okay. Still, you shouldn’t worry. Like I said, self-loathing isn’t the same as self-harm and I have no intentions of doing anything stupid.

I may hate myself more than any other person on the planet, but I know I can become greater than I expect.

And…if you have the same loathing problems? Remember to say thank you. Stop yourself and earnestly say thank you. Even if you have to compliment yourself and tell yourself thank you. All bullies are victims. So remember that when you bully yourself…that bully is a victim. And he/she just needs a hug and a few kind words.

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Wild Ride

Hoo boy, where do I begin?

I was due to be married December 18th. Past tense. My ex fiancee` and I decided to break up. We’re still friends, but it doesn’t hurt any less…

We simply grew up and because of that, apart. Romantically, we’re not compatible. We don’t have a lot in common any more. And, because of a series of very unfortunate circumstances, our relationship became abusive without our even realizing it. It frightens us both and is sad to know it got this way without either of us realizing what happened.

It happened right before that appointment I told you guys about. Literally the day before. My therapist was really shocked and kind of concerned that I was taking it so well.

I’m not really taking it well. Humor is my defense mechanism and I know how to bury my emotions really well so that I don’t feel them. I cried a lot as the break up happened, because I didn’t want it to be true. But every hour after that, I rationalized it and logically…it all made sense. There’s still a hole in my heart, and I miss her like crazy…but it makes sense why everything happened.

And, it was a very tough choice to make so close to the wedding. I admire her bravery and honesty to break things off before the wedding.

So, despite the sadness, this does make me kind of excited. The next time I’m in a relationship? I’m hoping to be on T and have gone through top surgery. I want my next partner to know who I am. I mean…I won’t argue if it feels right to have someone in my life WHILE I’m changing…I figure it’d just be easier to have the bulk of it out of the way.

I wonder where life will take me now.

 

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Coming Out Continues

I’m hosting a game on Facebook that no one is quite sure I’m playing. I’m leaving hints. Any posts I make are all related to Female -> Male. I’m enjoying myself, and that’s all that matters. Mostly close friends all know now.

Family however is TRICKY.

I had to come out to my biological dad over Facebook. We’re not always on good terms. I could really care less about what he thinks or does…but the saint that is my betrothed is forcing me to stay civil. So, for the wedding, I decided it would be good for him and that part of my family to know who I am.

There are many ways and words I could use to describe my dad. Supportive is not one of them. However he is strong. While he did take it upon himself to kidnap my brother and I and lie to the court about my mom’s capabilities of being able to care for us after the divorce was finalized…he was able to support us. He took the responsibility of raising us and we were fed, clothed, and had a roof over our head.

Most of the time, we lived with family. Most of the time, it wasn’t food that was healthy for us. We never saw our dad because he worked to pay back the family that was helping us survive. But he got the job done. But when you raise a child, it’s not as easy as The Sims needs meters…There’s a SOCIAL aspect too.

 

**EDIT: At this point I went on a rant and deleted it. This wasn’t meant for me to gripe and bitch about how I don’t like him, however true that may be. Here are the FACTS.

  • I had restrictions on the color choices and gender of clothing.
    • No boxers, despite the fact I got and wore them anyways
    • No black clothes, because it implied I was Satanic and/or depressed (ACCORDING TO THE SCHOOL whom informed my parents of their assumptions)
    • More blouses, less T-shirts, and less/no choice of what the clothes looked like.
  • No attempt at communication
    • Dad set up a therapy appointment to find out what “makes [me] tick”. Instead of listening and trying to understand. Because he spends more time telling me his expectations than caring about what I think of those expectations
    • Due to frequent moves across the united states because my dad wanted to desperately to raise us, I have the social adequacy of a slice of bacon in the middle of a vegan restaurant.
      • Basically, if you want to know how I’m feeling you have to drill and ask questions and be fucking relentless. Otherwise I will answer you “Great!” “Fine!” “Not much!”. I share my feelings with no one. Not even my Cutie waifu.
  • No physical presence
    • Even if he was a communication expert, the fact is he was never at home and always at work.
    • Time spent together was usually me being scolded for:
      • Not cleaning something, complaining about my step-brothers for a NUMBER of things, being online/computer, something I wrote to a friend in a private note stashed under my bed…

I wish I could be making the last set of bullets up. But these are most of the memories I have with my dad are him or step-mom being angry at me for not being adult enough. I was 16 when I moved out. From what I can remember, these behaviors started when I was probably 12. I was just…expected to be an adult because they weren’t around/at home as much as I was.

So. Needless to say. Things got a LOT better when I moved out. My life did a 180, I learned how to be responsible and to be held accountable at my level of competency. I was responsible for the same things a 16 year old should be responsible for. I hated it. I was tired of being an adult. But it helped me grow. It helped put me where I am today. It also gave my dad a lot of time to reflect…on me being a lesbian. *cough*

Some point after not talking to him for…years. We talked over Facebook and we built a little bridge. It’s a flimsy bridge on my end at least. But at least he was willing to try and understand. Even if I know he doesn’t like it. Which is still hurtful.

I didn’t want him to come to my wedding and expect me to be something that I’m not. I’m not wearing a dress. I’m not a girl. I’m not his daughter. He’s not walking me down the aisle or having a dance with me. I know this hurts because I’m the only girl among my siblings. But it’s hard for me to lie to my family. So I told him in the NICEST POSSIBLE WAY…that I’m trans.

That was a little over a week ago. My step-mom, who has been more supportive than my dad and more so since I’ve left home, sent me a message a day after saying that she supports me and dad is coping with it.

I am not surprised or upset.

I feel like people think I should be, but my relationship with my dad isn’t strong enough for me to care much more than just being nice to him over Facebook. He made sure I didn’t die and taught me how to be an adult starting first grade when my parents divorced. If he’s accepting, I’d be shocked. I may build a stronger bridge. If he avoids it and doesn’t come out for the wedding? I won’t be surprised or upset. Because that’s what he’s taught me to expect from him. He’s not a part of my life. And the moment he’s finally out, I can stop addressing my step-dad by his name…I try not to, but sometimes I feel that I have to clarify…

(Fun fact, to show their support, my mom and stepdad watched a lot of LOGO tv and Big Gay Sketch Show…I love them.)

I’ll keep you posted on how my dad responds. If he does. We’ll see.

 

Expectations are set low so I’ll either be pleasantly surprised…or things will go as I expect.

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Weddings and Coming Out (Again!)

Because life keeps putting me back into a new closet these days.

No, Kaiser still hasn’t gotten back to me. This therapist better give me my T when I walk in, because goddamn are they hard to get a hold of.

So, you may or may not know, I’m getting married to this cute girl I met in high school. (Seriously, she’s so cute and I don’t deserve this happiness. Like. What did I do.)

It has been a big deal for the Mothership, ever since we announced it, for me to wear…a dress.

A DRESS.

At the time, I shrugged it off. Sure, whatever. It’s one day, I can wear a dress. HOWEVER. The more time and energy and thought I put into being male…the more certain I became about wearing that suit. I have already bought the dress, too (and there’s no returns. UGH.).

But this all means I had to tell my mom. I didn’t wear a dress to prom. I hate wearing girly clothes. And for all that my mother has done for me, I felt obligated to wear the silly dress. But. That silly dress causes me a lot of stress and discomfort. I knew that I had to tell her, I’m not saying yes to the dress.

So I tried. I pushed it. But I couldn’t push forward more than, “I’ll wear the dress for the ceremony and the suit for the reception.” Because I didn’t want to make her sad. I love my mother, you guys. She’s done so, so, soooo much for me. If she did not take me in? I wouldn’t have met this cute girl or made such cool friends, or even, very realistically, be alive. I couldn’t shatter her dream. So I compromised.

Lucky me, that cute fiancee of mine talked to her today and informed my mom I will not be wearing the dress. That was a great weight lifted from my shoulders! The Mothership knows! She’s not sad!

At least as far as I can tell. She does the same thing I do and we repress our outward emotion and focus on something else. Like the laptop or TV or Phone.

My Fiancee paved the way for me to come out to my mom. I want to dance with my mom for the mother son dance. I love my step-dad and all, but I’d really want to dance with her. Especially in my suit, looking dapper, and (fucking Kaiser) on T.

I have come out twice to my father. Twice because he wrote the first time off as a phase and me seeking attention. I had come out as a lesbian, because I didn’t know what else I was or could be. Dad was quick to shut me down and make me hide everything. Needless to say, I was not intending to have to come out again in my life time after my family knew what was going on.

Telling my mom I was trans was both difficult and relieving. It went very well, as far as coming out stories go, and she seems to like the name I’ve picked.

I’ll tell you now, my middle name is/will be James. She looked me dead in the eyes and said “JAMES. POTTER.” And I just smiled and nodded.
“Hell yea.”

My brother knows. My mom knows. My step dad would know if he hadn’t slipped off to bed so suddenly…(I told my mom she’s free to tell him because I don’t particularly ENJOY coming out). But the rest of my family doesn’t know.

That’s fine with me. And I CERTAINLY don’t expect any of them to start pronouns or name changes…or even if they did, I totally understand that they’re going to mess it up a lot.

My mom can’t even remember that I can’t smell. From an accident. That probably could have killed me. I’m not gonna hold anything against her.

So yes. Wedding is just around the corner and I’m wearing this super sexy grey suit with an ivory shirt and vest, with purple pocket squares! Stoked!! It makes up for the fact that my birth name will be on a lot of things…but we’re trying to keep names off of things. :)

(Also, sorry if this post is a train wreck, I hate rereading what I write. So grammar and typos and what not are just going to have to be there. I don’t careeeee~)

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Adventures in the Parking Lot

A few night ago, I got to meet someone, I had met online, in person. I met them on OKCupid when I was looking to make friends.

I know. OKCupid. To make friends. I didn’t get a single dick pic. It was shocking but I’m certainly not unappreciative.

Anyways, we live in the same city, met up at Starbucks, I bought him coffee, and we went Pokemon hunting. We meet other trainers and saw people camping out in front of gyms. It was a lot more fun than I was expecting it to be!

It was getting late, so we headed back to the car to say our goodbyes when all of a sudden…

“Heeeeeeyyyyy… Is this your car?”

This guy rolls up on his little bike to strike up an intoxicated conversation. Apparently, Ozzy Osbourne shows up every Saturday to have coffee with police officers in a trashy blue pick up truck. And gave him some weed. Of which he showed us his “sacred weed” that he shall never smoke, which was torn out clump of grass. He also lives in the trash can “over there”.

Curse me for not knowing how to keep my mouth shut, I gained his attention by agreeing and asking questions with whatever nonsense came out of his toothless mouth. He kept getting closer and closer to me which is what became the plan. I let my new friend get away to his car and I was able to safely get into mine, end the conversation, and watch him roll up to another group talking in the parking lot.

This was not terrifying. Not even nerve wracking for me. Where I went to college, I’d go as far to say half the population is or has been homeless. I have a lot of experience with these kinds of people. The only upsetting part of the entire conversation was…

He asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

So much for what I thought was a good make up/outfit/binding job.

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