swallowed-the-mirror

[swallowed-the-mirror]

8/3/25 - incomplete rambling and self-loathing

For the hundred-millionth time I find myself thinking of when mom used to say I was a blessing. How she loved my brothers, but she'd always wanted a girl. How she was so happy when I turned out to be a girl. It's one of those things that sits somewhere deep inside me.

Not for the first time I think that being trans is the worst thing thats ever happened to me. I couldn't just be a girl.

I know a hundred things are true the way I know how to do math. Theoretically, and not without double checking things over and over to make sure I'm right. I know that being trans is not a choice. I know I'm who I always was. I know that parents don't get to decide who their kids become. I know parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally and fully. I know that, as complicated as my relationship with myself is, that I'm at very least proud of who I've become. I know that so many of the things I like about myself conceptually are things I might never have known or been had I been cis.

I just wish things were different. I wish I could have been her, yknow? That idea of who I could have been, if I hadn't ended up being me. I wonder if anything was different if I could've been something like that, or if to do things differently would have required that I was a different person. I know its not healthy to get caught in the "what ifs" but I sit with them often.

I wonder if my sister is what my mom wanted. If she was what my mom always closed her eyes and envision when she thought of a daughter. And if she is, where exactly does that leave me? I think of all the ways my sister looks almost exactly like I did at that age, except she has some of the things I always wanted. Brown eyes, wavy hair, tall. Maybe the universe messed up making me, and when it realized it the only thing it could do was send another.

See: Big Thief, Not.

"Not what you really wanted

Nor the mess in your purse"

See: Olivia Rodrigo, deja vu.

"Do you call her, almost say my name?

'Cause let's be honest, we kinda do sound the same"

and

"So when you gonna tell her that we did that, too?

She thinks it's special, but it's all reused

That was the show we talked about

Played you the songs she's singing now when she's with you

Do you get déjà vu when she's with you?"

See: Olivia Rodrigo, happier.

"But she's so sweet, she's so pretty

Does she mean you forgot about me?"

and

"Oh, I hope you're happy

But not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier"

See: Catie Turner, God Must Hate Me.

"Do you ever see someone and think

"Wow, God must hate me"

'Cause he spent so much time on them

And for me, he got lazy?"

and

"Do you ever see someone and think, "Wow, they got lucky"?

The craftsmanship of their bones, their brain, and their body

When I look into the mirror for too long it hurts"

[swallowed-the-mirror]

7/31/25 - "I don't know" and how it relates to safety.

Despite what anyone else may believe, I don't actually like being this way. Gage spent a whole hour telling me to be nicer to myself, so I'm not going call myself all the names I feel are true. I'm stubborn, I know that. I don't even know why, it's exhausting to be like this. I don't know how to let go of anything, even negative thought patterns.

I'm tired of responding I don't know to everything. Here's the problem – there are exactly two reasons why I answer "I don't know" when Gage asks me a question. 1.) I truly, honestly, do not know. If I have any answer beyond "because" in the moment, I'd love to give them.* 2.) I'm lying, I do actually know, it's just that I'm overwhelmingly embarrassed by what I have to say, for a number of different reasons and I'm terrified of people's reactions.**

But anyway, Gage yelled at me. Or I guess yell is the wrong word. His tone was stern. Maybe harsh a points. I frustrated him (I think I maybe frustrate a lot of people with my stubbornness). It sucked me down. That awful yawning free fall, that ice water shock. I felt it for a moment, that awful half second before dad raises his hand, or mom grabs my arm to dig her nails in, or my brothers call me names, or my sister starts thrashing and screaming. The crushing overwhelmingly urge to say I'm sorry, to repeat it over and over again begging to be believed, ready to promise to do whatever he wants to fix it. Just please don't leave me. Don't give up on me. I swear I'll be better, I can do better, just please please I'm sorry. Don't give up. Don't fire me as a client. I'm sorry. He said he wasn't mad at me, what I heard in the moment was "I'm not talking at ya, I'm just talking to ya." I know he wasn't mad at me, I just wish I believed it.

I went non verbal (or selectively mute, or whatever the right term is now) after I left. I still am as of writing this actually.

I know therapy is hard. I know I need to put in the work to see results. I don't mean to waist everyone's time being the way I am, I'm just not quite sure how to be anyway else. But I'm trying. I don't want Gage to think I'm not putting in the work, I do genuinely listen to what he has to say, I do try to employ the things he tells me. I work it over in my head, or out loud to mom like a debrief. I let it sink in and shift my perspective. I just don't know how to feel safe enough to do that in the moment, it always comes later in my own controlled environment. Where I can turn it over in my head, take a break for a few hours, and come back with a fresh perspective until it makes more sense. I don't know if he sees that. It probably shouldn't matter if he does or not, but I still don't want him to think I don't care.

I sent a message to my friends, my oldest friend, the long distance ones. "Hey besties, my therapist told me I should ask you all if you hate me or like find me annoying or like don't really wanna be friends with me anymore or like anything of the sort. Lol SUPER random, don't worry about the context behind this question, and no worries if you do🧡👍" I sent it in the middle of the night, because as discussed in the session earlier, that is when I am awake. I heard back from one person right away, because her sleep schedule is always messy, she confirmed "I love you, I don't find you annoying, I am glad to be friends with you, and I hope this state of affairs continues indefinitely" which was nice, it probably should have been obvious, but its hard to see that all clearly when you're standing in the middle of it.

* Option one: I truly don't know. It's hard to think, all the time, but especially when I have someone there excepting an answer, and a good one at that. I am not particularly well spoken, despite honest effort throughout my life to try to be. The minute I'm in a real situation, face to face and told to give an answer it's like all my thoughts retreat. I'm grasping at empty air, begging all the thoughts on the matter that I know I had to come back. They do not. When I think about things later all the answers I want to give or opinions I actually have come back to me, they find me easily. It makes me feel very small, like the whole world is looking down upon me. It feels silly the way I try to hard to organize myself and my thoughts, only for them to scatter the moment I need them. It's like the moment I'm asked anything I forget I've every had a thought in my life. it's very frustrating. Sometimes I've never thought about something to begin with, and I don't know how to search down within myself to find that answer on demand, mid conversion, with someone expecting an answer. Sometimes I rush into saying anything even if its not right, just to answer the question. To be fair, at the time I don't usually realize it's not right, it's only upon further inspection later that I realize its not actually how I feel.

** Option two: I know the answer I have to give is wrong/unhealthy and I'm embarrassed and afraid of the reaction. That's it really, I know that Gage isn't going to be upset at any answer I give as long as it's not "I don't know" but there's something about it thats humiliating. Sometimes the right answer just feels so childish*** or like,,, I don't know, emotional**** I guess. Sometimes it feels overwhelmingly cliche. Knowing objectively that I am safe to muck up or even to just say something earnest does not actually make it easier to do. I am aware, for the record, that I am human and not totally above it all and there should be no shame in this. But I think about all the times these things have been laughed at or thrown back in my face by the people I was supposed to be able to trust the most, and it's difficult to try again. I want to. I want to try again. and again. and again. I'm just so scared of it all.

I know – in theory, the same way I know a lot of things – that there's nothing wrong with being emotional, or even childish. I just, don't like it I guess.

***I've never fit very well into the "childish" box, not for as much as I can remember anyway. I always remember feeling older than I was. I didn't like a lot of kid shows, I never believed in like Santa or the Tooth Fairy, I didn't spend a lot of time make believing – especially not with other kids, I didn't have imaginary friends. All of that always felt too little for me, even when I was little. And part of me always wanted that, sometimes I wanted it so bad it ached the same way it aches now, but I couldn't ever force myself to. It feels like I've spent my whole life trapped inside of my head, I hate it here.

****Emotional, I guess I fit that box better, at least I was always the "emotional one" or "the crybaby" or whatever. Looking back, a fair amount of the times I was accused of being those things were when I was have a meltdown. It was easy for me to get overwhelmed as a kid, and it was almost always someone leveling those emotions against me, until I was doing it first. It became do easy to brush the off and pretend they didn't exist, sometimes just until I was alone. If I give no one the opportunity to be meaner than I am, then it's like I'm protecting myself.

See: Madds Buckley, Driver's Seat.

"The check engine light is blinking brighter

And I wasn’t raised to be a fighter

...

And I wasn’t taught to tame the driver

Just how to delay the raging fire"

See: Waterparks, Crave.

"I wish I could forget you

But it's out of hand

I wish I was aggressive

And had a plan

I could write a couple words

That'd string into a phrase

But I'm afraid I'd go on and on

For days and days and days"

See: The Front Bottoms, Father.

"I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with a baseball bat

And he is screaming and crying for help

And maybe halfway through, it has more to do with me killing him

Than it ever did protecting myself"

See: Shine Down, Second Chance.

"Well, I just saw Halley's comet, she waved

Said, 'Why you always runnin' in place?'"

[swallowed-the-mirror]

7/30/25 – Post therapy freak out

He didn’t mean to do think, but I think I'm having an identity crisis. I'm here, sitting in my room, looking around at the the reminders of the things I love and I don't have a single answer as to why I like those things. I'm looking at my plushies, figurines, books, comics, posters, art, puzzles, clothes, trinkets, bedding, and I have no idea any I like the things I love. Why have I surrounded myself with heroes? I like them. Why do I like them? I don't know I just do. What about them do I like? I don't know, all of them? Be specific. Their like... not goodness, because I like plenty of characters who aren't exactly good. Just them. I like them. I like the way the make me feel. How do they make you feel? Good? I guess? Happy? Safe? Content? Why, what about them makes you feel that way? I... don't know. I didn't even really choose to like the characters that I do, my brain just kinda like, latched on to them. It didn't need my permission. Actually I don't know if I have much of a choice in it at all. I've tried to get myself to care about characters I think are interesting. My brain just doesn't latch the same. Maybe it's an autism things. Idk. I feel sorta sick now. Like just, how can I not know something so simple about myself.

[swallowed-the-mirror]

they should invent a medicine that makes the aching jagged wound in your soul close

[swallowed-the-mirror]

7/5/25 — When it rains.

I know that sayings are sayings for a reason, that the human experience is a lot less unique and individualized than we like to imagine. But I wonder sometimes about the phrase "when it rains, it pours" tragedies tend to clump, right? Does it only seem like that, or is that how it really is? It's hard to tell, standing in the middle of the fishbowl like I am. I'd like to think its all a matter of perspective, bad things don't lump any more often than good ones, or even mediocre ones, buts its hard to trust thats true. It feels like my brain is hard wired to find that sad.

I wrote before about this feeling, what was it? "Sometimes I think my life must be a modern example of a tragedy. I wonder if historians will look back and marvel at what I went through. I wonder if film students would find my story boring" Gage –my therapist, I dont know if I like him yet– would ask me why I care so much about what other people think. I'd tell him 'I don't know' and sink further into the sofa like I could escape his stare.

I could say I don't know who I really am, other than an extension of other people, that feels true enough. I could say I'm afraid of looking like a fool who doesn't know what's he's doing, even though that's exactly what I am. He'd say "why?" like it truly doesn't make sense to him, maybe it doesn't. I could respond people don't like things that are different, and people hurt things they don't like, and I'm so so afraid of being hurt. He'd say "have people who didn't like you actually hurt you before?" and I would feel my throat closing up like it's rejecting even thinking too hard about this so I'll have to choke out my "yes". He'd say "okay, but are those people worth being around then?" and I'd pray for the couch swallow me whole so I wouldn't feel judgment when I shrug. I know the right answer, I know that its no. Not everyone hurts me, and not everyone is going to hurt me, and I shouldn't want to be around anyone that does. But then I think of mom, and I feel it all rush over me.

I'm kind of crying again, I don't know why really. If I focus I think my chest hurts too. I've gotten away from myself I think. Why do I care so much what other people think? I know, logically, that someone who doesn't like me isn't likely to hurt me directly, but what if they talk behind my back? What if they spread rumors? What if the reason no one ever lets me talk if because they secretly want me to just shut up already? "So what?" Gage whispers in my ear, "Why Do You Care?" I feel vulnerable all the time. I can't 'who cares?' my way out of feeling the way words physically land on my skin like stinging lashes. I think about my first day of public school, 7th grade, huddled over myself trying to be as small as possible, aware that everyone knows things I don't. I think about looks shared between my family when I talk, like I'm saying something so stupid or they all know something I don't, like they're all aware they're just indulging me. I think about the way I learned to smile and nod along to everything, so I end up missing a whole lot. When you spend your whole life being treated like, or actually told, that you're far behind everyone else, it's hard to not feel like that forever.

I want people to like me, I care if people like me, because I can't stand the way it feels otherwise. My chest squeezes to hard that if I could think past my panic I might assume catastrophic heart failure. My stomach jumps like when you go 0 Gs and then it settles into that awful squirming, writhing mass, like something is trying to break out and escape me. My throat tightens painfully, a lump too big to swallow settles in and chokes me. My whole body tightens like a spring, ready to run but unable to move, all while my mind starts running damage control, what can I do or say to fix it. How do I fix it, I need to fix it, think of something already.

It physically hurts. I am so tired of being hurt.

This all feels like aching grief. I can see a little girl I want to hold tight to my chest as she scream and crys curses out into the middle of the forest or into her pillow. There's a still so little tween/teen girl I want to stand tall in front of like a shield, I want to fight her battles for her because she both can't and doesn't know how to herself. There's a teen boy I want to stand behind, a strong presence in his corner as he learns how to fight his own battles, a solid chest to curl into when that battle turns internal. There's grief for everything it feels like I lost.

It comes back to this again. The gaping hole in my memory that spans my whole childhood. I think again about the hazy memory I have, sitting on the floor alone, pensive and reflecting in a way thats always come naturally, wondering if I'd start remembering things soon. It's almost painfully innocent. "I don't remember last year, I wonder if I'll remember this one, when do people start remembering things?" It's makes me ache now, to wonder why I don't remember, to wonder what I don't remember. It makes me feel sick. It makes me grieve.

See: Radiohead, Creep.

"I don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control

I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul"

See: Crawlers, Kills Me To Be Kind.

"Mourning a future I know could have been

And I'm wanting to please you, but I'm begging to leave

Your body knows before your mind

Though in your head, it's fine"

See: Madeline The Person, Mean.

"You said I take too much space

Half an inch from my face and you meant it"

and

"I'm glad you got the chance to be honest, I'm happy for you

There goes years of my progress

You said I take too much space

Now I know what you meant when you said it"

[swallowed-the-mirror]

6/23/25 — Post therapy, car in the shop.

I caught myself doing it this time, the backing out and dissociating. I not sure how to actually stop it though. Like even thought I caught it happening, I dont think it stopped just because I told it to. Maybe part of that is because I know its easier to not feel it all than to feel it. idk

$2000 is a lot of money. And yeah I have the money to deal with it is just. I feel so overwhelmed, and defeated, and sad, and kinda angry (idk if its angry exactly but idk what else to call it. Frustrated? Annoyed? it feels stronger than that but angry sounds wrong somehow.) Like I got that money and I felt like I could actually start saving up. Like I could buy what I needed to get through the week and not be left with next to nothing. and its not like this will knock me down to zero, but I still feel its loss like something is being ripped from me. Money makes me feel so overwhelmed no matter what, I don't know how to face any anxious thought about money it feels like it will consume me whole.

my chest feels tight (its doing that thing where it sorta aches? Like when i feel a squeeze and then it sorta ripples out under my ribcage), my head hurts, my throat feels kinda tight, I'm crying (kinda, crying is hard for me because I get too aware of the fact that I'm crying and then suddenly I can't anymore. I'm more so getting teary over and over again than actually crying.) I don't necessarily feel like queasy or sick, but i feel like i could throw up.

and why do i hate comfort so much when I feel like this anyway? Idk, it all just makes me feel worse. Like that thing inside me that might be anger but might be something else flares worse. It feels like its trying to protect me but I don't even know what its trying to protect me from. Maybe its like I said, I don't like people knowing i don't have it all together. So anytime someone makes it aware that they can see the cracks it freaks me out.

The worst part it that i just want to hide. I want to turn off the lights and lay in bed until I sleep or until I've shoved it so far back that it doesn't feel so consuming. I want to read or listen to music or scroll tiktok or tumblr until my mind is far away. I want to remove myself from it, and fix it, and move on just like always. And I know that doesn't work and I know it'd make me feel shitty once it was over and done with that I just hid again like a coward, but fuck man how do people do this? How do people face feeling like this, i feel like I'm going to die, I feel like I'm in a dark hole and theres no way out of it, but its going to swallow me whole if I sit here any longer. How do I sit with it and process it when it feels so big? It doesn't feel like a kid throwing a tantrum, it feels like the monster at the bottom of the ocean about to grab me and drag me under.

this is one of those times where I just want someone to swoop in and make it all better. I just want someone to fix it for me. One of those moments that makes me feel weary down to my bones, tired of fixing, tired of making decisions, tired of being in charge of anything. Sometimes i think I'd be happy if someone just stepped in and made all those choices for me, even though I know thats not true. What's that quote again? "He didn’t have anyone controlling his actions anymore, but that meant he had to decide everything. What if he chose wrong?" Yeah that. What if I chose wrong? Wait theres another one. "If he moves wrong, he’ll slip. If he slips, there’s no saying how far he’ll fall. So he presses flat against the face of the cliff, digs his fingernails into the rock, and clings for dear life"

Maybe thats why I cling to heros so tightly. I like the idea that theres someone strong enough, and good enough, and brave enough to save me from the world, and from myself. I know I can't wait for Nightwing, or Robin, or The Flash, or Nico di Angelo, or even Sherlock Holmes to come save me, because they're not real. But I still with they could come save me, because they'd know what to do.

I think I'm just a coward. Emotions scare me and make me so uncomfortable that I can't dealt with anything with my emotions turned on. How can I be so scared of a concept that I hide from it like this?

And now? Now I'm just exhausted. The emotion crash where now all I want is to sleep for a year straight. Is this part of the avoidance and dissociation or is this normal? Now I don't know. I feel like I'm second guessing myself on everything. This would probably be easier if I was at least aware I was doing this to the extent that I have been. Its simple to know i do it when emotion are so overwhelmingly high, its hard to learn that I've been apparently doing it in day to day life.

How do I know if the emotion like passed or whatever on its own if if I turned it off without realizing? And how do people just feel things for extended periods of time? Like I want to stop feeling to overwhelmingly sad now, but how do I like work through and sit with the sadness and not just accidentally turn it off when I dont want to feel it anymore.

This would probably be a lot easier if I knew what things were supposed to feel like? Or like if I even had a foundation of dealing with feelings? I feel like I'm just confusing and frustrating myself all over again because I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing or feeling. Im so tied of feeling wrong or broken or whatever.

Oh my fucki g god I just remembered I need tires too. Holy shit, feeling are too too too too too too much. What the hell, how do people do this?

See: Bears in Trees, I Don't Wanna Be Angry.

"I don't wanna be angry

What has anger ever helped?"

and

"Didn't wanna be emotional, does that make me a coward?

Harsh white noise carving through my skull, sitting motionless for hours"

See: Sasha Allen, Twenty Something.

"Take me

And shake me awake

Throw me into it

I'll cease all my movements

My marching in place

'Cause it's just artistry, starving

Apartments and parking fees

Faraway, commonplace opulence taunting me

How do you learn to admit that you really know nothing?"

See: Noah Kahan, Tidal.

"I fell into a pattern

Where nothing would matter if I didn't care"

[swallowed-the-mirror]

My therapist says I need to process my emotions, I have no idea how.

A journal disguised as vent posts.