Musing and writing from a transwoman who needs more direction in life.
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Support and cop from these talented Black artists ✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾
Links: 1 (x/x), 2 (x/x), 3 (x/x), 4 (x/x), 5 (x), 6 (x/@ctchrysler), 7(x), 8(x/x), 9 (x), 10 (x/x)
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I wanted to do a really pretty winter picture of you but I couldnt stop thinking about this post @tookbackthefalls
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I'm gonna try something starting tomorrow... I want to be better. I want to be confident in how I look, who I am. I want to feel like I accomplish things. I want to be able to be creative and not judge myself. I want to get good at it. I want to be able to tell stories. I want to be able to draw characters. I want to feel sexy and cute and attractive. I want to be able to find a woman that loves me and have a great relationship where we help eachother grow. A relationship that is immensely deep, a relationship of mutual understanding and trust.
TMI time.
I want to be able to have sex that is full of tenderness and feel like I'm beautiful, that I'm able to enjoy sex and not just be a stressful mess. I want to be able to give her the pleasure she deserves and more.
I am the Death Arcana. It is time for another cycle to end and another to start. No longer will I be inverted: stagnate and holding on to decisions, habits, and feelings that should be discarded.
For Death isn't the end, it is a new beginning.
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It's been a little since I've written something. A lot has been happening lately and has left me perpetually tired. Have a lot to do tomorrow but I hope to do some writing over the weekend.
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Through the Veil
The universe is an amazing thing of infinite possibilities. This is much less romantic when one of those possibilities comes crashing into your life. Let me just say that it certainly changes your perspective, if not, it at least gives you one hell of a headache. The problem is, the headache doesn’t go away. What you have seen can’t be unseen and then you have to make a choice. I’ve ... made mine. Only time will tell if it was the right one. In the end we must all take responsibility for our actions and whatever consequences there may be.
What’s more fun than a 12 hour shift at a hospital? Your bus getting into an accident on the way home from that 12 hour shift. Loans don’t go away after you’re a doctor. Surprising, I know. Luckily I found an apartment that was conveniently on one of the bus routes in town. Unluckily, tonight wasn’t the night for quiet rides back home. I was sitting in the back of the bus, head against the window and dozing while making mental notes of the movements of the bus. Left...merge... right...u-turn. The route was memorized by the feeling of inertia on my body, there was never a need to open my eyes until the pattern got near the end. That night was different though, not the route, not the amount of people, but who got on the bus.
That night was just me and a unfortunate soul that was curled up on the seats to sleep, probably to be out of the cold for at least a while. The bus driver didn’t seem to mind, bless him. Everything was fine until we picked up our third guest. You ever get that feeling of something being off, someone gives you a bad feeling but you don’t know why. That’s what I had. This was a problem, my intuition is always right.
The man was breathing heavily, probably from running to catch the bus. He quickly picked the seat next to the homeless man. He was constantly looking out the window, as if he was looking for someone or something. Could have been he was just on a bad trip and was paranoid. I hoped that wasn’t the case because I didn’t want to end my night having to treat someone for ODing on a bus if they had a little to much fun. His focus then switched across the isle, taking glances at the man curled up. His leg was bouncing furiously, like in agitation or anticipation. It happened so fast.
A shift of the body Screaming Blood Screeching Sudden shift of inertia The world on its side Grinding of metal Pain Black
It took a second to recover. The entire side of my body hurt from the impact against the side of the bus. The side that was now the floor. I slowly got up, feeling stabbing in my hands and arm. Glass. I get up shaking my head, hair flapping, trying to clear my head. Eyes refocused.
Red Crack The sound of lips smacking Drip Drip Drip Chewing Deafening chewing The smell of copper
That...image. That noise. I still have nightmares of it sometimes. I wake up in a cold sweat, hugging myself for comfort until I could breath normal again. The newest passenger was eating the unfortunate, with surprising efficiency. Ripping meat off bone and then breaking it to suck the marrow. I was paralyzed in shock. I had seen things in the hospital but this, this, was true horror. His meal and my shock was interrupted by a thud on the other side of the bus, which was now the roof of our little bus shaped nightmare. Someone, or something, had pried open bus door. Another thud as the impressive figure dropped down into the bus. The thing about things being strange, it can always get stranger.
A bugbear. A. God. Damn. Bugbear. Yes. The big, hairy humanoid in every fantasy based off of Dungeons & Dragons. Wrapped around his arm was a chain, at the end of that chain was a heft ball, that hefty ball was in his large hand. Then that hefty ball crashed into the cannibals head and the massive crack of the cranium caving in was heard. The force knocked it over and it no longer moved. With a tug of the chain the ball popped back into the bugbears hand.
I looked down in horror at the deceased man. His skin was gray, whatever features of its head that remained were stretched and slightly off. It’s limbs were thin and gangly, teeth that remained in its head and on the floor were very ragged and sharp. I looked up at the man who had performed this execution. Before I could say anything, a second person hoped down into the bus.
He looked human. Male, average height, black hair with a matching suit to the one that the bugbear was wearing. He had these black shades on, and even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could feel him look down at the corpses and then up to me. I tired to speak, words got caught in my throat, I cleared it and tried again.
“What just happened? Who are you? Who...or what is that? A who or what is your friend?”
The man turned his head and looked up at the bugbear who returned his stare and shrugged. The man turned back to me.
“You....can see him?” He said as he pointed his thumb at his partner.
“What do you mean can I see him?! Yes I can see the huge hairy guy next to you that just shot-putted a ball through whatever-the-hell-that-is head!”
“Oh god damn it.” He sighed and scratched his head. “My name is Jayce, this is Edgar...and now I need you to come with me. No if, ands, or buts.”
#Doctors Journal#Writting#Creative Writting#This is based off an old campaign I was a part of for like 3 years#This is gonna be a fun trip down memory lane
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On this new year
Today has just been a day of being tired. All day just a very deep exhaustion that I couldn’t shake. Maybe it is because I’ve made it through another year. That despite everything that has happened this year I am still here. I made a post with the summary of my thoughts on facebook and I think I’ll copy it here.
As the new year starts I'm not sure how to feel. A lot has happened, I mean A LOT. Lots of it wasn't good. It was a year of incredibly severe mental problems, isolation, disappointment, and ended with me unemployed and sending application after application into the void.
I am a financial burden to my mother and I have realize that I have essentially lost a third of my life due to severe disconnection from the world and my own feelings. I will never experience a childhood as a girl and growing through the years as a woman. I will also probably never be able to afford any more medical transitioning.
I don't know how to reconcile all these facts. Even after everything, my mind is a muddled mess of decades that I am constantly thinking about to parse out and face.
And I'm tired. So very tired.
On the flip side, I have spent an entire year publicly out and presenting full time. I have developed a voice that passes. I'm pleased with my figure so far and am slowly working towards losing weight with some results. My mental issues have now been diagnosed and I finally seem to be on the right combinations of medicine.
I no longer see myself as a abomination, unworthy of existence or love. Probably most importantly, I'm starting to have the capacity to love myself, at least a little bit.
So, I'm not sure how to feel. The holidays have always been the worst time for my mental health for the last 10 years. This time was no different, but instead of from a place of self loathing it comes from a sense of loss, regret, and mourning of a life I will never have. It is like I've filled myself with tears all my life and I can finally start letting them go.
So I don't know. A lot of things can happen in a year. Maybe I'll finally have that year where I can look back and say with certainty that it was a good year and confident that the next will be prosperous.
But for now, all I know is I'm tired. For now, I know that despite what happens I will make it through the other end. I may be battered and hurting, but I will make it. In the end I am Emotion and Control and, with both working hand in hand, I am unstoppable.
Happy New Years all. I hope that this is the year we have all been waiting for, the year for good tidings and growth.
#Journaling#Musings#Personal#One year comes while another one goes#I really hope this year is different#For to long everyone has been glad that the year is finally over with#I hope this year is finally the year we have all been hoping for for a very long time
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Through the fire and flames
I want to end the year on a good note on here. I also for the post tomorrow at the start of the year.
Despite everything I have been publicly out and presenting full-time for just over a year. I’m more comfortable with my body than I have ever been (I hope my chest keeps growing :P lol). I’m going to be changing my name starting next month, so before my 30th birthday I’ll officially be who I always was.
My mental state is a lot more balanced and, while I still have bad periods of time, I am able to handle stress a lot more. Sadness I feel is no very different, not coming from self-hate. It’s like I’ve been filled with tears all my life and now I can start letting them flow.
I apparently look great and I’m actually starting to believe it. People I have encountered have no idea I am Trans. My voice, as much as I’m dissatisfied with it, apparently fits me and passes as female.
Despite everything, I stared into the void and said no. I am better than you. I am strong enough to, despite the weight of the void, march forward. I am able to get better. I am able to love myself. I AM worthy of love. I’m not a monster.
While things are still hard and prospects bleak, I’m still standing. On the crumbling remains of the wall of Control. Control now guides Emotion. Now they don’t work against each other. They walk together, hand in hand, forward. Through the fire and flames, they will make it through. They may be scorched and battered but through it they will still stand, they will still move forward.
Because I am Emotion.
Because I am Control.
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The cost of Control
TW: Self Harm?
A continuation of last post (I am...)
Control kept me alive, but at a cost. There is always a cost.
There were two major prices I had to pay. I wish the cost wasn’t so steep....
In order for Control to hold back Emotion it had to do all it can to prevent it from being fed. What that mean is that I disconnected from everything. Everything was impermanent and not worth investing myself in. Everything would just hurt me in the end so don’t invest in it. It wasn’t just prepare for the worst, it was disconnect yourself from the start so even when the worst happens and you deal with it the damage would be minimal.
I avoided connection even with people. I withdrew more and more from my family. Any friends that I somehow managed to make (it was always a case of people choosing me, I never made friends) I stayed at more than arms length. When they inevitably hurt me or leave me I wont feel as much. I never talked, I always just listened.
Even as I got older and was able to trust very very few people, I was petrified to lose them. I withdrew I never reached out, never talked about me. If I didn’t get close I wouldn’t be as hurt when I lose them. The void would never claim them and burn them...
The second part was hand waving thoughts related to being trans. Control is very good at using logic to explain anything. While this gave me the capacity to look at most everything objectively, it also led to me making excuses for any thoughts I had. I could logic away any feelings that wasn’t self-loathing.
Children aren’t stupid. They are ignorant. They also learn very fast...
As long as I can remember I hated mirrors and pictures. I couldn’t stand seeing myself, it would always cause distress and hate. I always had thoughts of “I would be happier if I was a girl”, “My life would be easier if I was a girl”, “I wanna know what its like to be a girl”. I wasn’t stupid, I knew I would be mocked even more if anyone learned of it. That it was wrong or unnatural. I use logic to dismiss it “Everyone must have similar thoughts, who wouldn’t be curious and want to be the opposite sex. To be able to have experiences of something you will never have.”
I hid my body. I always wore pants no matter the temperature. I always wore oversized shirts to cover as much of my body as possible, making me a shapeless blob. I never looked in a mirror, I never let people take pictures if I could help it. I even taught myself to shave in the shower completely by feel so I could avoid mirrors. I hated my body and everything about it, but that’s just because I’m fat right? Everyone says I’m ugly and fat so why would I care about my body at all, right?
I was in chorus for a long time. I loved it, I loved singing. My voice started to change...I was shamed out of chorus, after all almost every single last boy had already left it. I tried singing on my own. I hated it. I stopped. “It’s just because I never knew how to sing in the first place, chorus just allowed me to be tuned out under everyone's voice”.
It wasn’t until after college that I was forced to face it. I was having panic attacks from seeing a small glimpse of myself in any mirror. I constantly had the urge to claw and cut chunks of flesh off my body, to break my bones. That would somehow fix it... I had to face this. It didn’t take me long to decide that I might be trans. The second I resolved to figure out why it was almost instantly my conclusion.
I called a friend I trusted. I knew she probably wouldn’t care. I talked it out with her, and she gave me the permission I was looking for to take a leap. I bought a shapeware set on a website I found. Made sure no one knew what was in it. That very night I put everything on and snuck out my room to look in a mirror.
I didn’t hate myself. For the first time ever I didn’t hate my body. I still didn’t like my face, but I had never felt so at peace with how my body looked...ever.
That...was the cost. I lost a third of my life. I was disconnected from everything and also missed an entire childhood due to Control making sure that nothing else was added. That the dam wouldn’t break. That was the price for Control to continue starring into the void and saying you will never claim my life.
How do you reconcile completely missing out on a third of your life? How do you reconcile never being able to have girly sleepovers, to not have gained control of my body sooner so that I was more feminine. So that I wouldn’t have lost my voice. How do you reconcile that?
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I am...
TW: Suicide/Suicide Ideation
Another warning, this is fucking long.
I’ve never had a sense of self till recently. I always just, existed. I wasn’t anything but that. If you asked me who I was I wouldn’t have an answer. Tell me about yourself, no answer. I had nothing. I existed, and that was as far as my sense of self went. It wasn’t until I pieced together that I was actually a woman that I had some small piece that I could say was me.
A month or so ago I was blindsided by something a friend of mine said. We were talking about writing and I wanted to write a story that was like a letter to myself and others like me. I stated that the driving force of the main character was self-loathing, all her decisions in life were guided by this singular massive force.
“Then she would have killed herself before now. If that was her driving force she wouldn’t have a reason to not kill herself”
That was the statement. I started crying. I wasn’t expecting it, wasn’t prepared for hearing that. The main character was me in a big way, how I use to be. The thing was I never had a reason to not kill myself.
A little back story. I’ve had suicide ideation all my life, just wanting to not exist. Constantly thinking and being convinced it would be better if I never existed, or no longer existed. For over 2 decades, 20 YEARS, that was the case. I’ve been asked time and time again, “Why haven’t you acted on it?”. I never had an answer, I had no reason to not do it. That thought that I shouldn’t be alive. By all accounts I should have looked into the void that has been a part of me all my life and let it consume.The void has always been there, a large looming presence that made up most of my being.
It...was a rough night. I cried for an hour, talking it out with another friend. Trying to work my way through the haze of my mind.
Why didn’t I do it? Because I wouldn’t let myself. I would not even humor the concept of taking my life when it occurred to me. I didn’t have a reason, I didn’t need a reason. I looked directly into that void and said you can’t have that. That was the one thing the void couldn’t have. I then realized who I was.
I am Emotion.
I am Control.
That is who I am, at my very core. Leading everything back to its source of who I am as a person is those two things. I am Emotion. I am Control. Let me explain...
I am Emotion.
I’ve always had a large amount of empathy. I can very much feel other people. I understood people. People always came to me for advice, probably for that reason. I was able to understand. When I was young I was told constantly that I had my heart on my sleeve, I felt everything intensely. I was also taught that emotion wasn’t allowed, if I felt I had to suppress. If I felt I can’t show it. Which leads to the second part.
I am Control.
The thing you have to understand is that my capacity to endure things is probably unhealthy. I endure a lot because I control myself. Control holds Emotion down, rejecting it completely to accomplish a goal. For this reason I’ve always been the pillar in times of crisis. I would drag people through the chaos till it had passed. Only then could I let myself feel something, even then, just a little. Control is what prevented me from submitting to the void. In the end the void is just an emotion, not an action. It cannot force me to act because Control refuses to yield what it is. So Control took Emotion and locked it away.
The thing is that doesn’t work forever.
No matter how strong a wall is, no matter how much a dam can hold back, no matter how fortified a fortress is, it all falls with time. There is a breaking point to everything. Even something as strong as Control. First it would only spill over, a slight slip caused by a sudden unexpected surge from Emotion. Control would loosen just a little before clamping down again.
I was bullied for almost all my school life, it wasn’t till high school that it mostly went away. I didn’t act. I didn’t react. I took it. Day after day after day I took my blows in silence. No one cared to stop it and I was powerless to, if I retaliated I would be the one in trouble. But Control can only hold back so much.
I snapped twice. Just. Twice. In anger against the abuse. Before school started that day in elementary school, last year I believe, I was picked on again. The thing you need to know is that there was a leader of the entire class of abusers. That day I couldn’t. I don’t know what about that day, but Control was blindsided by Emotion. I snapped, I yelled and chased him. Kicking him in the ass (literally) as he ran from me. Got him twice, both times he lifted off the ground. Control quickly took back the reigns and I went back to my quiet isolation.
If you want an example how much power Control had: I one time approached the head bully and, completely straight faced, asked him why he picked on me. He said he didn’t know. Didn’t stop him from continuing. The second time it was against the same person in middle school. This time it was in the middle of class, he kept getting other people in the class room to whip me while the teacher wasn’t looking. I flipped my desk, spun around and yelled “You want me to kick your fucking ass like I did in elementary school?”. Teacher gave me detention for it. I immediately whirled around and called him out. “For the entire year this fuck has been getting half the class to whip me and doing it himself. You better punish him to.” He did. I’m very...intense...when it comes to righteous fury.
After that Control got even better. It found out that it could let steam out, almost literally, via breathing. It also found a controlled way of channeling Emotion to maintain Control, ranting. I could get worked up and rant, sometimes just about completely arbitrary things. People always found it very entertaining when I went on my rants. But even then, the cracks were beginning to form.
In college I entered crisis for the first time. In the middle of campus I broke down with a major anxiety attack, I had insomnia, I could never focus, whenever I tried to do anything it would feel like I was losing my mind. I was having anxiety attacks over almost anything, Control could no longer completely contain Emotion, not anymore. So it slipped and all my mental problems started leaking into actions.
I think I’m gonna stop here for now. I’ve been writing for the last hour and a half and its nearly midnight. Besides the next part needs more context. I’ll be talking about the bad side of Control: the suppression of very important thoughts. Control, while it kept me from ending my existence, also kept me from facing who I was...
#TW:Suicide#Personal#Journaling#Musings#Sense of self#Very fucking personal#Also I probably sound a little crazy#Emotion#Control#Transwoman
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Terror
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So I’ve been thinking about this song ever since I heard it. The combination of the lyrics and the visuals made me want to do an interpretation of the lyrics. Let me start by saying this isn’t me saying that this is what the lyrics are saying. All I’m doing here is what I thought about when listening to the song and reading its original translation. I’ll be using the original translation (bottom video) for the analysis, I posted both because its a great song and Juby is a fantastic singer.
Set my mind on writing a letter that can't be expressed with words I'd been considering sending it to the person I'd be in the days to come, but I don't have an address to send it to, and don't know where I am, either... So then what am I supposed to do with these feelings?
So this is established as a letter to themselves, sorting out their feelings and what they want to change in the future. Simple premise. Make note that both characters are shown together at this point, back to back. The boy curled up on the chair, his eyes covered, while the girl is at his back looking back on him with a smile. Also note the crying eye motif present during the video. The boy has it on the eyes he is covering while the girl has it proudly on her head. Also note that the positions are mirrored, his symbol is on his right while hers is on her left. How's it feel to have become someone you never wanted to be? god's laughing up there in heaven, pointing his finger down at you Shut up, you useless piece of shit; hurry up and get out of my sight The misery grows upon you bitterly...
The animation switches over to the girl who is walking. The perspective has shifted. It is now talking about the boys current condition of being trapped. They are someone they don’t want to be, feel that god set this up just to mock them. People abuse and harass him. Being treated like this has caused him to be bitter and miserable. Note since this is the only character present on the screen then it seems like the girl is the one commentating. But isn’t this a letter to themselves? Squinting, turning away from love and being shut in a 6-tatami room, that's terrorism This whole time, I've been singing out - no, I've been crying out If you say that's wrong, then take a bullet heavier than those words and shoot
Okay, so this continues the commentary of the current situation. They have shut themselves out of everything completely, turning away from anything that could be good. They have been crying in pain and been denying. The last line is a call to action. If they say that this treatment is wrong, this self detachment is wrong, then figure out what you want to do and then put it into action. This is directed at the boy, how they are currently, from the perspective of someone else either in the present or the future. Notice it also shifts from 2nd person to first. I’ve been singing, I’ve been crying. Then it shifts back to 2nd person with the call to action. So she goes from describing his anguish but then says that she been crying out to him for change. But again, this is supposed to be a letter to themselves? When struck at, strike back - it's your turn now! It's time for you to seize every single dream thrown away I've bet my heart's place on this resistance A coup d'etat of life, so to speak Neither victories nor any losses through overtime It's the eve of our counteroffensive
This confirms my previous statement, its a call to action. She calls to him to fight back, to grab at every dream they have denied a go. The thing is she is saying she will bet her heart. She also says that this is a rebellion against life, or in other words to take over their life. That it is time for both of them to fight back. Again we have the constant shift, from you to my to our. The letter is constantly changing perspectives. I used to earnestly believe that things could change if I put my thoughts to song I'd thought simply that without embarrassment or guilt Domination and the like, who's talking about that? Guess aren't any huge idiots who would here...
So here the video changes who it focuses on from the girl to the boy. This is looking back what he use to think. He believed that if he simply put his thoughts into song he could face his thoughts without embarrassment or guilt. Gonna be honest, not sure what the second half is referring to. Note that it references singing, much like the girl did at the beginning. She sung, no cried out her thoughts. Trapped by fear of the voices of the heartless crowd, that's terrorism Just like that, I've rejected others - no, I've run from them If this is our final chance, then for this terrible stage... Thanks, but no thanks
So just by the fear of being ridiculed from people he ran from interacting with people. Which resulted in the isolation of being trapped in the room mentioned earlier. The last line is essentially if this is the last chance to either escape from this stage or stay then thanks but no thanks I’m out of here. When struck at, strike back - it's your turn now! Ignore all those who abuse and jeer at you A cry for help leaks out from the wounds in my heart, mayday Laugh back as much as you were laughed at, but no more This intifada occurred in a single room (intifada means revolution) A defensive battle with neither soldiers nor officers It's the eve of our revolution
Okay so this goes back to the action the girl referenced earlier. Basically fight back against the malice, ignore the people that abuse and berate you. The pain he has been feeling is now to much and he is crying out for help and fighting back. Then he says that this revolution takes place in this room, this change, this fight back is not without it is within. It is a fight with no enemies to defend them selves. Also no it then switches back to the plural, our revolution. Even when worn out, take it back Your heart is yours and yours alone Life shines so brightly because that's what makes it life You may fall over, trip, or collapse, but that is proof you tried to advance forwards That's why anyone who laughs at that is the worst But despite everything, the world'll keep going 'round Is that right? Is it? give me an answer...
This switches back to the girl talking. Basically saying you are you, to claim that, that this is what makes it life. That you may falter, get hurt or become exhausted, but this is a proof of your growth. That anyone that makes lite of your growth is the worst. That despite everything, you’ll keep going. She is embracing him with a peaceful smile while he cries. She is asking him to believe in that to change. The last picture is of them holding hands, the boy finally standing straight in peace with the girl next to him smiling.
OKAY
So my interpretation is that they are a transwoman who tried to ignore how he felt, release it through song, that it would go away. When it didn’t he was mocked and he was scared so he locked himself away. This letter is a call to action from themselves for themselves. From who they actually are/want to be and who they currently are. It’s a call that you can no longer live in this cage and need to fight and change to become who you are in order to live.
Anyway, yeah. That’s my interpretation
#Vocaloid songs#Lyric interpretation#Transgender#Oh boy this is gonna be a long one#I haven't even written it at the time of these tags#But I fucking know its gonna be long#I swear if someone sees this im gonna get some hate for it lmao
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Don’t look away
I was thinking of writing something else before this, thinking it might help make more sense of this. However it would take to long and I’m tired and having trouble thinking, so I’ll save it till tomorrow.
Today has been a very...emotional...day. Not for any reason in particular but I’ve cried multiple times today and been on the edge of crying. I think it’s because of a manga featuring trans and crossdressing individuals I’ve been reading recently. A lot of it has hit home pretty hard.
It’s made me face things that I haven’t in a long time, not since before I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2 and medicated for it successfully. Now I’m seeing it through unclouded eyes. It’s stuff I thought I had accepted. Stuff I thought I was done with. This time it feels different.
It’s not the same type of sadness. It’s like a exposed nerve being constantly touched. A sadness that is very deep. Like I have been filled with tears my entire life and now, now, I can finally let them flow. It hurts. It causes my heart to be heavy. My mind unable to focus completely.
I won’t look away. There is something there. I can’t see it yet, and it will continue to hurt, but there IS something there. It’s something I need to see. So don’t look away.
Don’t.
Look.
Away.
Look at it straight on...not turning away. Within it there is something important.
Something.
Important.
Something i’m supposed to see, but I’m not there yet.
But I will be
#journaling#musings#introspection#Transwoman#the end of the year is always rough for me#but this year is different#Don't look away#I will not look away
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I'm actually gonna finish cleaning my room today, I swear. I still haven't figured out what to write today. Maybe something will come to me when I go for a walk. If not, I can always find a prompt generator thing and try that out.
Bah. My mind is all muddled and I don't know why. I got sleep last night but I woke up every like 2.5 hours or so. I don't know what's up with that. Anyway at this point I'm just procrastinating. I'm gonna stop being difficult and finish getting dressed and get to work.
#journaling#musings#i hate tags#one of these days ill figure out a system#im not sure I care or not if anyone reads these#im tired
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False to be True
I’m so tired. I have absolutely zero energy lately. I’m just tired like 24/7. I need to clean my room tomorrow. I got all the laundry done but my room is a mess with bottles and dishes. I feel so bad about it.
Anyway... I wanna try writing something in here everyday. Besides like stuff like this. A series of short writings about... idk something. I need to think about it. Maybe I can find like, a random plot generator or something and write something based on the result everyday along with me talking about random shit...
Anyway, ON TO RANDOM SHIT. I tend to think a lot when I go for a walk. I’m just like 100% in my head. What I think about varies from philosophy to character interactions to whatever is bothering me that needs to be parsed out.
What I was thinking about is being false to be true.
So I’m a transwoman, not gonna hide it, not ashamed of it, I’m confident in who I am and I’ll be damned if anyone has control over my body except me. The thing is, until recently, I hated myself. Immensely. Found out I have Bipolar 2 and ADD. I’m medicated and handling it now and I like myself a lot more. Hell, I actually believe that I might be pretty.
The thing is that’s not all me, physically. Over the last year of me being publicly out and presenting, I’ve slowly removed articles that made me feel more comfortable, more complete.
First I lost my breastforms, mine were coming in and made it feel uncomfortable (already very nearly a c cup now btw :P). Then, as my hair grew in, it became harder and harder to put on my wigs and just tried my normal hair and my hat (I also got some glasses to help round out my face, I love them). I was surprised that I was okay with that, and now people tell me that I look so much better with my natural hair. I certainly hope it keeps growing, I’m gonna let it get as long as I want.
I’ve lost my love handles, I’ve technically gained weight but everyone tells me I look great and that I’ve lost weight. I’m still uncomfortable with my stomach so I’m still trying to make that go down, but it is what it is. I’m comfortable wearing bras now (fuck underwire tho, always gonna use wireless and sports bras) without any padding whatsoever. The only thing that remains is my hip pads.
I can’t go out without them. I hate how I look without them, it feels like I’m missing something. They feel so much a part of me when I put them on that I forget that they even exist, those are just my hips. But is that okay? Is it bad that I need these to feel complete? Is it bad that I like myself less without them? Is it okay for me to never get rid of them?
I don’t have an answer. I feel like I’m me when I wear them. But it’s false. As everything about me has become just me, all mine, this still remains. Is that okay? Is it okay to be false to be true?
#Transwoman#Musings#personal#Look I really have no shame#I will talk about anything#The ability to love myself vs my life long hate
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Tilting: Day One
For fucks sake.... I made a post on the wrong damn account explaining what this was for. Then, when I though I copied everything to put it here, it didn't get everything. So, y'know, fuck this.
This tumblr is for me to write something everyday. Write what you ask? Whatever the fuck I want: musings, stories, life events, whatever. So yeah, there ya go, I'm done with this garbage for now.
I'll post something else later. Right now I'm gonna exercise to let out some of this frustration then shower and dress like a normal human being, whatever that is.
#im so fucking tilted#i also never know what to tag things#im just gonna put commentary 50% the time#Musings#journaling#if this doesnt post to the right place...
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