Month: January 2019

segmented

Before the holidays I felt a similar Earthiness to these days. I thought that was from starting progesterone, but apparently it is not so simplistic. This may be a hint of my actually having a cycle of my own, independent of dosages. If that holds, then in about 6 weeks I should have another Earth phase, with an intervening busybody Air/Fire phase.

balefire

CW: Not rational, overreacting.

I’m unlovable, useless, impossible to want. I’m too odd, too pretentious, too different, too messed up by dissociation and hypochondria and body issues, too theoretical, too skewed. I’m fat and ugly, aged, caught in androgynous limbo; my voice keeps going too deep. I’m clumsy, I can’t even remember people’s triggers or boundaries, I’m not empathetic enough, not caring enough, not sharp enough to be able to interact with anyone so that I will not hurt them, except possibly by being so focused that I myself can’t stay present as a subjective being.

I’m too selfish, too needy, too clingy. I know too little, I am too forgetful, lazy, undisciplined, I am not smart enough, I don’t feel passionately enough to be interesting, I am almost entirely fake, not authentic, not genuine, useless, uninteresting. I don’t have enough of genuine life or genuine interests or projects for anyone to want to participate in.

Well, more accurately, people sometimes want to try me. I can be a curiosity, a safe game for a night when someone first comes out of a period of celibacy, perhaps. But once anyone tries once, a few times perhaps even, no-one can hold any passion for me. I’m like a corpse that perhaps can entertain a little through dissociated touching and D&D-style fantasy narrating, or who can use a sex toy clumsily, but that won’t last. None can hold passion for me, for what is there to be passionate about? So people fade away and leave me behind.

Or perhaps I am scary? Too weird, too cold, not empathetic enough, too odd, elitist, weird.

What can I do? Well, I can build my own self. I can do the things I should to succeed career-wise, scientifically. Even if I am no genius, at least I can do that, maybe sometime even making a difference. I can be a good friend, I can help and support my friends, entertain them sometime, with no need for reciprocity, though my friends do indeed reciprocate.

I can do some about this disgusting body. I must continue strictly to lose weight, for if I do, my shoulders will slim a little more, by belly will diminish, and my tiny hips and breasts will look a little more feminine by comparison. I can get into shape, because then if I am fit then I will seem healthy, despite my increasing age, and that is something people like. If I like moving in my body, learn more motorics and grace, then I may become actually attractive to some.

I could fix more body things. Bottom surgery is all for me, not to look a certain way to others, but I could reduce forehead some, lower hairline, maybe change cheeks. Weight loss will help there too, as will giving hormones more time. That might make me look a little better.

I will fix my voice, I will somehow get around the laziness and lack of focus and discipline that keeps me from being able to maintain it. I will train, I will focus, I will maintain. I can sound more so that I like myself, and then perhaps others will catch on.

I can learn style. I can learn to tidy up and keep a clean home, not living in a pigsty. That would make me more impressive, and would make it easier for others to stay near me, to want to share some of my everyday life with me.

Getting in better shape should involve sleeping properly also, because then my brain may start functioning better too so I will be able to offer interesting conversation at least. If I can do that then I won’t continually bore or trigger people like I do. I will be able to keep my stupid shit together better, and maybe that will make me more likable.

What else is there? Get more control of my life so I have more freedom to follow the rhythm of others, again letting me become less uninteresting.

Perhaps.

I am a useless needy wreck in real need of therapy and to stop being stupid and passive-aggressive.

And it is very very real that I am loved, I have loving partners who would come to me when I need it, with whom I share crucial sides of myself, with whom I share passions specific to each relationship, whom I would burn continents to save, relative to whom nothing can be more important. They do love me. I cherish this. I treasure this.

Still, the sort of passion that so many other people do experience in their everyday lives, that is beyond me. I am not the kind of person that makes anyone want to prioritize me like that. I will always be less important than various other things, because there is nothing in me that could make me important to others in a way that would inspire romantic devotion.

I should dissociate and get to work. But I don’t want to. I need to stay in pain if I am to be able to heal.

line becomes a circle

Laser day, woke, went out without makeup, no time for estrogen before. My face and form and voice are flawed and this felt like weighted sadness. Receiving support made me safe to feel this sadness, love and music came my way and I listened and opened, and thereby could feel it more clearly.

The interesting part: I know I could step into “this has to get done, I feel nothing” dissociation and ride outside the body core in the enactment of tasks. I wouldn’t express sadness then or appear to feel it, might not even notice it.

I’m trying to stay now if I can. Because I’m thinking that perhaps I need to stay in sadness, even court sadness, if I am to be able to also stay to feel happy emotions at a greater amplitude than I can now. I think at this point I must learn not to dissociate and I think this is what I also am attempting.

ogre battle

No, cisgender woman in FB group who comments in response to me to ask what I mean by misgendering, I will not explain it to you. Not when you likely are asking in bad faith and hoping to open a can of worms. Not when you seem to have all the indications of being either conservative, a TERF, or both.

More generally, my policy of not needing to debate or comment when it’s not necessary seems to be good. Usually applies only to men but there will be women also I must ignore, apparently.

And I will not debate my identity. It is not up for question.

flox

My body is in that state of fuzzy tiredness I associate with inflammation. There was a little lack of sleep, there is fasting, there was not coffee yet. But more to the point this feels like a post-fear forced resting state.

An interpersonal exchange might, just might, no jinxing, be going exactly where I had hoped it will. I feel like it might take a lifetime to explore her, it reminds me of jetlags, of being newly arrived somewhere and whelmed.

Time to do magic.

tiphareth IV

These are days of force going up and down. All in all I am so blessed. There is so much to challenge, but I feel the world unfold. Life is adventure.

I must learn the saran wrap technique, must try it. My estradiol levels were not tested after I started gel, so I worry perhaps I misapply and my levels may be too low? Next check is scheduled for March. But there is no fear – I no longer masculinize, so even delays in my change are only temporary setbacks.

With too many crucial and important things at once I must learn to force relaxation. It is so hard. I must set evenings when I do nothing, not even emotional labor, not even quick email answers. Certainly not late chatting. I must set days when I do nothing productive, only go see new parts of Babylon, or try to write more intense words than these. I must set days when I work on forgotten projects only, or long-term projects only, despite any urgency, days when I just read. I must start placing these into my calendar, schedule nothing conflicting then, and adhere to them.

I know this is truth and that I can do it. Nothing stops me. It is still difficult. But nothing stops me. I am alive now. I know it is what I need, so I must do it.

Similarly, I must do what is needed for health. It seems documents will not be an issue, so after the consultation in April I can decide on surgery – if, and when, and where. And if as I now am leaning to, and I will go to Chettawut in Bangkok, and if I have the funding ready, then perhaps I have no reason to delay. I’m trying to get used to the really scary thought of doing it in December. Maybe one of my partners can join. I can’t assume they will, so will keep that open, for whomever can. And thereafter, after the first month, will I spend one in my country of origin? Or will I stay in Babylon, receving guests?

It scares immensely. It must and I must process it even more before April, so I will be ready to decide then.

I fear somehow having a heart condition. I don’t think I do, but I must minimize the risk so I am not denied. So this year is the strict deadline for perfection, isn’t it? What should I do?

I should attempt to make real – again, I can, I just have to dare schedule it – so that I sleep closer to eight than six hours each night.

I should attempt to reach fully where I want to be with the fasting, and keep diligent with probiotics and vitamins. I need to minimize risk for blood clotting, optimize blood circulation. So I should also begin cardio exercise. This is even harder in terms of finding time. I cannot become sick. So I must dress warmly, from now on.

That effort with voice, that must continue.

I relax into these preparations. Certainly there is also here a factor of having a complex goal and vast ordeal being something which empowers me. After surgery, which will mine be correspondoingly? Asides from all my other goals? I will find one, certainly.

Emotionally, I learn to be ebb and flow. I write heart-baring words and then brood over whether to send them.

The sun is shining today in terrible glory.

standing waves

CW: Rant/vent/temporary emotional expression, not 100% what my logical mind says, etc., but I feel it so I want to write it.

Some day I’ll have made a body which is not only feminine, but also fit and beautiful. It will need dieting, it may need exercise, it may need more drastic measures. Some day people won’t have to make an active effort, or make me a favour, or be in some unexpected rare mood, to find me attractive.

Some day I’ll have gathered enough accomplishments that people have no choice but to be impressed and believe I am interesting and intelligent, so that I’ll be someone people have no choice but to think of as special and worth their efforts.

Some day I’ll have learned enough empathy and style and social skills and energy and discipline and focus that I’ll be able to not hurt people by being sloppy or lazy or by mistake, that I’ll be able to fascinate them so they’ll want to seek me out.

Some day I’ll have gotten wise enough to feel at peace either which way, instead of being volatile and clingy and needy, I won’t seem so desperate any longer, and therefore won’t be as scary and distasteful to others, won’t be a walking warning sign for complex baggage and drama.

I just have to keep making myself slowly, painfully edge closer to some ideal of perfection, and then perhaps I’ll experience the sort of validation that apparently I’d need in order to believe I can have value to others.

This is silly. I am crying again, I’m irrational, I’m messed up, I’m being silly. I fascinate myself, at least. And I’ll just bury myself in efforts of self-improvement, and then maybe some day I won’t feel like this. Hard to stop crying, interesting. I’ll be OK. I have a paper to revise.

Should I hide emotions like these? Nah. It’s just so hard for me sometimes to believe in myself, I’m so inclined to second-guess it when I receive appreciation. It must be tough to deal with, and I keep on crying. Oh well.

moe doe

So, I have emotions apparently. Which is interesting. There are now two posts made here but flagged as private, which is not quite a sustainable solution. Need to work that out on a meta-level.

Also need to remember that it is about meaning, not happiness, and that my own emotions are beautiful because I feel them, whichever they are.

tonal total

I was at a meeting and had a few times where I could speak up under poor acoustics. It was stressful. My voice stayed in a low register because I didn’t have the headspace to work or habits not to have to. I hated hearing the sound of my voice then, knowing how masculine it came across.

I still won’t be quiet. But this really bothers me.