Pardon Me, I Need to Rant

Alas, the time has come yet again for me to decry the ravings of fools.

And, truly, I don't mean to start off with an abusive or attacking tone, but those screaming sheer preposterousness for any and all to hear about people like myself... about trans people... well, it's difficult for me to see this in any serious light.

Firstly, to these people... not that you would probably ever really read this blog, but I speak to you anyway... You say trans people are mentally ill. You say trans people are simply confused. You compare saying that you're an animal... like a panda or a rhino... to being a human gender other than the one your appearance leads people to think you are...

...okay, see... that last thing you say... this is why I used the word "fools" to start the post. Because really, if you can't see the difference between someone saying their gender is more nuanced and different from most people's and SAYING YOU'RE A DIFFERENT FUCKING SPECIES... well, you a fool.

As far as the other nonsense above, this is actually REALLY simple.

Ready, here it is:

1. Who made you a doctor, such that you would know these things and can diagnose ill people? Do your numerous degrees in Psychology give you a deeper insight of the inner workings of the human psyche?
2. Are you aware that most mental health professionals recognize that trans people are not insane, and that a large portion of mental issues they may have are caused by society's attitude towards them? Do you realize that attitudes like yours make us crazy? Do you realize that your attitude, when tossed into the caustic din of attitudes like yours, costs us lives? Do you realize that when people constantly berate you and degrade you just for being who you are, that we're only human and, as steely as us transfolks can be, it eventually starts to hurt? Are you comfortable with inflicting pain on people for no good reason? And if you do think we indeed have mental issues, do you enjoy inflicting pain on those who have such issues?
3. Who knows more about a subject, someone who lives and deals with it every day, or someone who gets cursory glances into it through media blurbs that are quite often sensationalistic? Chances are that I don't share your job. Do you think after hearing 30 minutes of scattered news stories about your job that I could possibly know more than you about it? Do you think I would know anything at all about it other than what the name of your job is and maybe a really high-level understanding of what it is that you do? Do you think I could have many erroneous assumptions about your job? Can you now see that when you say the things you do about something you barely understand that you could be very, very wrong? Do you think you could possibly know more about gender and the conflict that it can cause than someone who lives with it, literally, every second of every day? Do you realize that trans people are supremely aware of gender and think about it all. the. time., and this includes researching and reading many things about it from a wide variety of sources? Do I need to go on?

Look, this is probably the most abrasive blog post I've ever written, but when you ask and ask for understanding and you get more and louder voices screaming back to you about how you're twisted and inferior, it tends to grate. All we're looking for is understanding. An open mind and/or an open heart. That's it. Can you strive for that, or would you rather stay mired in hatred?

Either way, I'm a fucking hippie at heart, so I'll send you love back, and hope, at the very least, that maybe you'll think twice before plastering hurtful words for your own misguided shits and giggles or to scratch at whatever itch you may have.

And for those of you who are awesome and supportive, I'm sorry you had to read through that, but feel free to send anyone who doesn't get it here if you ever get stumped in trying to get through to them.

I can't thank those in my life and other trans people's lives enough for the good that you do whenever and however you do it. You honestly don't know how much you help, especially when there are people saying the utter shit that this post addresses.

All the best to you all, always.

Therapy and Fairy Tales

I mentioned in my previous post how I've started therapy again, and briefly touched on the fact that it's been amazingly helpful thus far. Now I have been to at least six different therapists over the course of my life, but this therapist asked me to do something I never did before.

She asked if I would be interested in doing some expressive therapy, which, in this case with me being me and me doing what I do, centered around writing. I said I would very much be interested in it, as I want to write more, this was a great excuse to write, and the only way to catch the writing bug again is to write and write until you get it.

The writing assignment she gave me was this: Write a fairy tale about yourself.

It seemed like it could be a lot of fun, but I was waiting to write it because I wanted to give it some thought first. Then my appointment got cancelled due to the president being in town last week and it shutting down like five city blocks to the plebs like myself (side note: *GROAN*). So this writing assignment slipped out of my head... until last night... at midnight. And my appointment was today.

I knew it would probably be fine if I explained things and completed the assignment for my session next week, but I figured I would give it a go. So, I sat here, on my sofa, at one in the morning, and words just came out of me, and they came out of me in rhymes for some reason (though I guess some fairy tales do rhyme... maybe?... idk).

Annnnnnnyway... while this is stupid rhyming verse, and is actually kinda embarrassing, I'm going to share it below. I figured it's as good an update as any as to where I'm at now. Additionally, dealing with embarrassment has always been tough for me, so in an effort to get better with it, here's something potentially embarrassing that I will then have to deal with.

Lastly, when I was done writing this last night, as cheesy as this writing may be, a giant smile smeared itself across my face and I literally said out loud a few times, "That was awesome. That was fucking awesome." This is because a LOT of feelings came out of me, and writing became some sort of solace for me once again.

It also made me realize that I had forgotten one of my most favorite feelings in the world—getting in a zone with words spilling out of you, and you don't know where you are or what time it is. You eventually look up from writing (sometimes hours later), and you have something completed, and, on top of all that, you feel emotionally exhausted and cleansed.

God, do I fucking love that feeling.

So here it is. Make what you will of it. Much love to you all.

Fixing the Broken Girl 

Once upon a time, there was a girl,
Who looked like a boy,
And everyone talked to her like she was a boy
And everyone treated her like she was a boy

And so she acted in this role as best as she could

She learned all the Dos
And she learned all the Don’ts
She learned the You Shoulds
And she learned the You Won’ts

She learned what it was like
To not ever fit in
This lesson she learned

Many times and again

This filled her with hurt
This filled her with rage
This feeling she felt…
Like trapped in a cage

She battered around it
And clanged off its walls
It broke her and bent her
Her movement, turned crawls

Now limping, she falters
On broken down bones
And with each step she takes
She stifles back moans

But onward she plods
Into what, she knows not
No other option to choose from
This… is her lot

But striving for, working for,
Fighting for more
It’s what she must do now
She arrived at the door

And on she must go
As scared as she is
For what she does now
‘tis no way to live

So kick the door down
And do so with laughter
It’s the only way you can ever find
Your Happily Ever After

The End 

Flying Blind... But Still in the Air

"Of flight or fly, This choice is left ye, to resist or die."
- Alexander Pope

It's been about 6 months since my last inspirational and uplifting post, and over 7 months since my last post of any real substance. In that time I've experienced a kind of "shut down". Essentially I just couldn't process and/or deal anymore. I didn't know what else to do, so I tried to shut off my brain as best I could. Seemed reasonable... or not. Actually, I think that it was more of a defense mechanism than anything else.

You see, the majority of my thoughts during the past months just flat out hurt. They hurt to think about. They hurt to dwell on. The hurt to write about. I didn't want to get into it. I didn't want to think about being trans, or my place in the world, or just about anything really. I just wanted to be. If only.

Pretty much every bad thought about being trans had a few good kicks at my ribs (and/or my psyche) during that time, and writing about it would usually help to ease this. Writing would get these thoughts out into the open and help me to deal with them more. Writing would help me to see my way around them and maybe even find a solution buried in the ranting. In this case, however, writing made it worse, because I was thinking about an impossible situation even more than I had been. It mired me in The Bleak even more so than I was already. I couldn't do it. I no longer felt liberated and mentally cleansed after I was done writing. What I did feel was hopelessness, sorrow, and yet more hopelessness. Writing proved to be nothing more than an intense dwelling on the unattainable. I couldn't do it... and for years and years it had been my predominant way of coping.

What I have come to realize through this sunny stretch of time, is that what I want out of life is truly unattainable. I will never have it. And when you're hit with the realization that all you want out of life is the one thing that you can never have, it kind of leaves you in a "ready to die" kind of mode. Not a lot of fun. It was best not to exacerbate it. So, I shut my brain off to it and just tried to be... an especially black-or-white decision, since the alternative is NOT to be. Aren't I just SO fucking Hamlet-esque? Bleh.

The important thing here, however, is that through all of the shit... through all of the despair... through all of the life-loathing thoughts of suicide... I still plodded on. I still tried to be. I still tried to exist. Even when it seemed like everything in my world was telling me not to.

The key to this was staving off my constant thoughts of trans-like issues in any way that I could. Old bad habits resurfaced – overeating, smoking, not caring that I was overeating and/or smoking. The last of these being the most telling indicator of where my head was at. I mean, can you really give a shit that you've gained 20 pounds or that you're killing yourself slowly with cigarettes when you're just out and out apathetic about the very concept of being alive? If so, I'd have to think that it's pretty damn difficult to do.

All of the above came about (in short) because I truly realized what I stated earlier: I can never have the only thing in life that I ever really wanted, and the only thing in life that I really care to get out of it. Never. It's not going to happen. Ever. Never. Ever. Ever.

So... now what?

Well, here comes the part of my life where I completely reassess what I hope to get out of it, what I'm looking to attain in this world, and what steps I can/should take to salvage something good from the rubble of my utterly smashed hopes and dreams. It's quite literally cultivating a change of my entire perspective on the world and my place in it, AND doing this while still dealing with the fact that I'm oh-so desperately trans. I mean, that feeling isn't going to go away (and from what I've seen, it's only going to get worse). So, how do I deal with this issue – THE issue – inside these new parameters?

Well, first things first.

I am throwing away the lens that I used to view my life for so many years. I have to find a new one, and I don't think that's going to be a swift process. Until that time, however, I have to be okay with the fact that I don't have any real idea of where I'm going. I mean, it's hard to know where you're going when you can't even see.

Be well.