New Beginnings?

Been awhile, I know. I have a moment to just settle and work out the last two months.

 

So. First of all, I quit my job from hell. Well, the job wasn’t hell…but the management sure as hell was. I thought my doctor and my Old White Dude were going to legit squeal in happiness. Actually, my doctor kind of did. So I quit that after getting word that I had gotten the job I was really hoping for. I have two weeks so far in at my job and I really like it. I’m basically a caseworker for people who have intellectual developmental disabilities.

 

New job. Pays better. Better hours. Most importantly, and it wasn’t something I was fully realizing until I started, way better environment. I went in my first day, spent it mainly with HR.  Got to hang out with the two supervisors a little (we went out to lunch) and then was back in with HR. So, I spent most of the day feeling out the whole thing and I felt okay, I felt comfortable. At the end of the day, I mentioned to HR that, well I go by male pronouns. I kind of held my breath, cause I never know the reaction, and HR smiled and said that’s perfectly fine. Then told me they had discussed that as a possibility with my supervisor after my interview when they were deciding to hire me. Was able to let that breath I was holding out.

 

Next day I have training and I’ve got to go down to one of the other sites. So, I get down there and I get with my supervisor who wanted to introduce me to everyone from down there… and never once did she use a female pronoun when introducing me. I honestly wanted to cry because it was so natural. Everyone just accepted that and I went about my training that day. Now,  my supervisor does fuck it up every once in awhile (we actually share a first name which fries her brain a little) but she always recognizes this fact and instantly fixes it. Hilariously, she only ever fucks up in front of me. And I don’t feel upset, because how she reacts makes me giggle. All the people I am going to be working with, I have been introduced as a he, and that is just how it is.

 

So, I had more training this week with someone else from within the company down at the other site again. I was running a little late, so my super called me and I explained I would be there in about 10 minutes cause nobody could drive. I get there, I get in with the trainer and another new hire who is going to work up at my site in a different department and we start. The guy is basically a professional asshole and I think just wants to make people terrified. I can handle that shit. He starts calling me a she though. Now, I am shit at calling people out because once again, the area I am in… isn’t always safe. So I hold it in. It was kind of upsetting because for two weeks I had gotten used to just being a he and I was starting to not think it was special treatment to be me. Thank you old job. However, toward the end of training we were asked to give examples of stigma… and with this country in a trash fire and the lovely comments about people like me I flat out told the trainer, “Well, my whole existence is wrapped up with a lot of stigma.” Of course, he is a little taken back and asks me to explain.. So I did. I flat out told him I go by male pronouns and he mentioned my super told him this. I pointed out he had referred to me as female at least five times. His eyes got -huge- and he started apologizing everywhere. He then asked why it listed me as my full name on the one sheet and I was like, “Because that’s my legal name?” I then pointed out that if he checks our directory, I am listed by the name I answer to…because HR made the IT guy change it. I honestly do not think that he was trying to be an asshole in that regard, he’s just really fucking oblivious.

 

Now, I have been fucking with my super telling her that I dunno if I can handle all of this. She responds that I am not allowed to quit and she’ll chain me to my desk. Apparently this trainer has scared people off before so I told him he could fuck with my super a little. I started it off and then he came in and was like “Oh I dunno, she did seem pretty shaken.” He kept talking and used she about three more times.. And I am watching my super’s face freak out. So I’m like “Oh and that too” while gesturing back towards him. I turned to him and asked, “What the hell did you just call me?” He then realized, apologized again, did it again, noticed again and decided he should shut up and just leave.

 

So my supervisor and I were talking then and she’s legit freaking out. She’s going up and down about how she made sure to tell him that morning… cause he came and asked her where I was and used my legal name. Super said she stopped him right there, explained I go by the shortened form of my name and that I go with male pronouns. She then said he was like, “Oh, okay. That’s cool.”

 

….and then he spent the day fucking it up. She was so upset that he might have made me uncomfortable. She kept going on and on that she could talk with him or she could send off an email because she never wanted me to feel uncomfortable there. She said she wanted me to be able to come to her if ANYONE made me feel uncomfortable be it our staff or any providers we work with. She kept saying this over and over and looked so freaked out. She wanted me to know that they never want me to have to hold all of that in if it bothers me and they want to make me feel safe and comfortable.

 

I wanted to cry because she wanted to make sure I was okay and that I wasn’t uncomfortable. I have never felt that before. I tried to make jokes of it, because I am shit at confrontation when it comes to my gender…because where I live isn’t always safe and I have told them all that. I told my super she could go and fuck around with him a little since he fucks with her all the time and tries to scare people off. I am not sure what she was gonna do to him, but she probably did chew him the fuck out.

 

Did it hurt to hear that all day after I started getting used to work being a place where I was me and that’s how it was? Yes, it really did. Do I think he meant to do it? No. Did I appreciate my super’s reaction? Oh my God yes. It was so genuine and she was so pissed too because she made sure to tell him that morning before I got there.

 

I never thought I would feel this way in a work environment. Before, I was made to feel if they got it right that it was a special treatment and they deserved a cookie. They never wanted to tell new hires and if my coworkers called me a he to clients, they were made to feel bad because they did that. I felt so ashamed of myself there. It certainly didn’t help my declining mental health while I was there.  Right now I keep needing to remind myself that was then, this is now. I am in a whole new ballgame of employment and I am doing pretty alright. I caught up with a former coworker and they were just so damned shocked at how relaxed I looked. I look calm, I look good. I feel good is the biggest thing. I legit feel good.

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Keeping all the things I knew inside

I didn’t realize how bad I was missing Uncle until these past two weeks. They weren’t fun weeks. One week work blows up on me and I completely scare the shit out of the Old White Dude. Seriously, when the man takes about five minutes just saying over and over “Because you matter” and asking if you are safe… you know you are making him concerned. Once that’s over, your brain is completely mush and it doesn’t want to get up and go on.

 

The next week, I become bitter and petty. I find something within myself to start fighting back because I don’t want those bastards to win. I want to prove that I am better and I deserve better. It’s still rough and I keep sliding back into dark recesses that I don’t want to be in. Which doesn’t make therapy easy. Especially when Old White Dude brings up Uncle and it hits you, right in the gut that you honestly miss him. You miss being able to just decompress with someone that gets what your head is doing and won’t judge you. I miss the comfort. I miss being able to laugh with him and forget the world.

 

And not only that, I didn’t realize I was starting to view Uncle in a manner of him being a male role model for me. I was able to be open with him and it’s well known that I’m not open with people. I told him pretty early on about my trans status. I don’t know why I did, but I did…and it might have been one of the better things I did this past year. I felt safe and I told him. He’s the first one I really came out and told in that section of my life. The best thing was that it was almost instantaneous how he would refer to me as a fellow and always got pronouns right. Uncle is one of the few that did.  I miss him.

 

I miss him enough I was talking to someone else and they know him so I mentioned him. We were joking around and talking and I said about how I would try to keep him on his toes and that I did miss him. The one I was talking to mentions to me that they know Uncle enjoyed my company. Then it went a little further, because they know that Uncle is proud of me. There was a sucker punch in the gut. Not in a bad way, no no not at all in a bad way. It’s just.. It is so very hard for me to hear that people are proud of me. I’m not used to it and I’m always waiting for another shoe to drop if anyone says they are proud of me. I do not feel as though I am worthy of any praise. I feel as though I am a nothing, why would anything I do be worthy of praise?

 

So I have a lot of feelings that are warring against one another. It’s not easy.

 

I’m trying to make the past stay in the past and not bleed into the now, but it is getting harder and harder. I keep finding myself flying backwards and feeling very small.. Very tiny. It makes me feel so weak, because there are times lately that all I want is to feel safe and wrapped up in someone’s arms… like in a parental way. Some of that is because I can’t even conceptualize that. I do not know what that feels like and I’m afraid I will never know.

 

I am trying to take care of the little kid within me, but he is so hard to hold onto.  He needs a parent. As much as I might try, I’m afraid I’m never going to be able to make that part of me feel safe. I do not think I can do it alone and I’m terrified of asking for help. I know I need it, but there is a fear that I am going to be turned away. I am afraid I will be rejected again because here I am, over the age of 25, and I cannot take care of myself in certain ways.

 

I know I am never going to be able to find support and what I need in my family of origin. I know I have to go out and beyond them. I know I need to do this, if I can ever ask for the help, with my family of choice. With my family of origin, I know I have to go away.  And the more I listen to it, the more I feel a connection with “Father and Son” in the idea of me vs my family of origin. They know them, they don’t know me. They know the me they wanted me to become. I don’t think they even know my favourite colour….and they have known me for my entire life. In all of that time, they never noticed that they never had a little girl but rather a little boy. They didn’t notice they were harming me as I kept everything bottled up inside. They wanted all these things for their little girl, and I was never going to be what they wanted. I am a disappointment in so many ways and I’ve accepted that. Which isn’t good for me, because then here I am believing I do not matter.

 

I am afraid I will never know what a parent’s love feels like.

Working in a Paradox

You know that it is time to get out of a place when you make the realization that the place you are in is going to lead you to places you can’t come back from. I was telling my Old White Dude this and he said simply, “So, it’s balancing on an edge. Either kill yourself or kill the job.” That is exactly what it is. I can no longer be in this place. I can no longer be where I am constantly put down, misgendered, and have my skills ignored. I have clients who are suffering due to changes in structure and some who are telling me they are never coming back. That’s not good in my line of work.

 

So I’m currently looking. I’m applying. I am getting the fuck out. Because if I stay here, I am going to have to go away for a little bit and I told my Old White Dude that. That’s how he knows how bad this is right now. I’ve always been afraid of being sent away, which I have brought up a few times when I have been really bad, and here I am telling him that I will sign myself away if I cannot get out of here. I am honest to God willing to send myself to a mental health unit if I don’t get out of here. I even told my spouse that, and they know my fear of going away. I am to a point that I am willing to do it because I know what will happen if I have to stay in this job and I can’t get out.

 

I need to take care of myself and part of that is not staying at a place that drives me to a breaking point on a regular basis. I cannot stay here and completely lose myself. It’s bad enough that they think they are doing good things but what they are actually doing is doing all the things they know will send me up a wall. They do what they know will set me off and then sit back and watch. It’s to the point where I don’t even try to correct them when they misgender me. I don’t call them out when I am noticing they just avoid pronouns, even just within the office. If I pay attention to it… everything gets worse and feels worse. So, I can’t do it.  I am just losing my sense of self and I’m going to try and keep surviving until I can get out.

 

I am basically living a paradox at my workplace. We are supposed to help people not be in shit situtations.. Instead I am abused and driven to the complete edge. By my employer and then told I am not doing good enough.  I am told that I need to do better when I’m already running ragged.

 

It makes me want to die.

 

And then spite kicks in. I get bitter and I get petty. I don’t want them to win. I want to win. For me to win, I need out.

 

…so I’m getting out. Somehow, someway, I am completely over this.

But Take Your Time, Think A Lot

I made that phone call and will be meeting with that person later this week. I’m terrified, but I feel a lot better after talking it over with Uncle. He really put me at ease and made me laugh.  Said he’d even write me a recommendation letter so that maybe my meeting will go easier.

 

… I’m gonna miss him. I have spent a year talking with him and learning how to be honest with others. We spent a lot of time together talking, just talking. It wasn’t me doing all the talking either. We kept things in a give and take sort of flow. Both of us learned how to be more honest and genuine. It’s been interesting thinking about all the different ways we have gotten to know one another. Thinking about it and just listening to how he talked about them made me feel just, special and privileged. Great ego stroke for me. No, it just really made me feel good because I helped him as much as he helped me. If I came up on Fridays, when I could get out of work early, he would make sure to make me feel welcomed to join the game they would play every Friday. I wouldn’t feel like an outsider and I was able to laugh and exist. Watching him and the others on those days was uplifting. I think that’s when he would smile the most because he liked to get competitive and stoke the fires of some people who are even more competitive.

 

One of the biggest things Uncle did for me was validate me and my identity every chance he could. He always made sure, once I told him, to make sure my pronouns were right and he openly used them. If he didn’t use masculine, which was rare, he would not use femme ones. I was so proud that he worked so hard to make sure he got everything right. Not just with me, but with others. He wanted to be considerate and making sure he wasn’t making someone uncomfortable. I’m just another fella to him and that he sees me that way, does more for me than anything else.  I am able to feel comfortable in my skin around him. I don’t police everything I do around him. I exist.

 

I hadn’t thought about it, but I’ve kind of been using him as one of my male role models as I try to learn how exist within that masculine sphere. Like when crossing streets, just stand tall and walk like a man; don’t run, just walk. Which is something he’s told me in just a random conversation.  He’s one of the few male role models that I can be honest with my identity about. Others, they can be great influences, but I can’t let them know that. I could with Uncle. Welp, those were feelings I didn’t need to have today.

 

I was able to be honest. I was able to be genuine and raw. It’s not something I do a lot of, but I worked very hard to do it. He joked that at the beginning of our talks I was much more of a  grumpy guy and trying to put some form of a mask on. However,  that mellowed out and we both stopped putting up the masks we had on for others.

 

I do feel better about talking to the person I’ve been terrified of for a month now. I’m still scared and anxious, but I feel a little better. I swear if they have gotten a ‘recommendation letter’ from Uncle I’m just going to laugh for days. I could see it happening. Which is what makes it more ridiculous and makes me wish he’d do it.  I am worried about actually being the adult and working on a repair of the breach that exists. It’s very unknown territory for me and I am unsure if my map is correct for navigating it.

 

I am not allowed to take any of my anxiety meds before that meeting either, so when I see old white dude following it and I’m losing my mind, it’s his fault. But the timing is great since that is supposed to be at 2PM and I see the crazy man at 4PM.

 

I am currently trying to get my head wrapped around my bullet points for this talk, which was my assignment for the week beyond making my phone call. I’m just not allowed to attempt to plan the last part because I can’t know how the other side will respond.
..it isn’t going to be an easy week.

It’s Hard, But It’s Harder to Ignore It

I’ve written this over the past week, so it’s fragmented and messy.. And I don’t feel like really fixing it up to make a lot more sense.

 

I got to see Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 last week when it opened. I rarely go on opening night, but I had the chance so I went. I love Marvel movies. And these in particular, Vol 1 and 2 have amazing soundtracks. I know the majority of the songs because that’s what I heard growing up. That’s all my parents of origin listened to. I used to be very good at knowing songs and artists within the first couple bars of a song. I’m not as good now, but I’m getting better again.

 

So, the Cat Stevens song “Father and Son” is on this soundtrack. So, I’ve been fighting with various songs from the film getting very much stuck in my head (looking at you ‘Brandy’) so I’ve been trying to get them out. I listened to “Father and Son” and that’s dropped me into a rabbit hole I forgot existed.

 

“If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out” is a song I forgot existed. I wish I hadn’t, because it makes me feel a little better inside. I can do whatever I want. I can be me, I can say yes, I can say no. Which is what I need to focus on a little more. I am not held by strings to my family of origin, who have imposed upon me their thoughts and feelings for years. I am able to be who I am, just as I am. Even though I’ve been having issues with that and will continue to do so while I learn and heal.

 

As I work my way through the Cat Stevens songs I know, I’m trying to build up courage.

 

“Wild World,” “Peace Train,” and “Morning has Broken.” All songs I know. All songs I have heard before. They drop me into a different kind of mindscape. Music has always done that for me. I can do anything within music. I can find you music for whatever you so desire. I like obscure, I like mainstream, I like old, and I like new. I like what touches me. I like what makes me think. I like what makes me get lost.


And courage I did build. I somehow, still not sure how, I did manage to send off a bid via email Tuesday afternoon. I asked if we could talk. Course, following that, anytime my email notification would go off, I would practically jump out of my skin.

 

…but I did get a response.

 

I got one in under two hours. It told me to get in touch with them in a couple days and we shall see what the possibilities are.

 

I knew the Old White Dude was going to have a field day with me Thursday. Because  I need to figure out how I would even talk to them. Part of me is glad to get a positive response, but another part of me wanted a negative response because then I wouldn’t have to do this next portion. I wouldn’t have to talk to them, but now I do. I have no idea how to do this. Which causes more panic.  And so I just went into my appointment [after a really, really stressful day] and it was… rough. It was difficult and made me a little more anxious. However, I do feel a little better because I can somewhat see the bullet points I want to make. The ones I need to make.

 

I’m terrified. I honestly am. I hate admitting that.

 

I need to do this. This has fucked me up for a month. It’s been taking one hell of a toll on my mental health and it keeps bleeding into things. To make it worse, I’ve been keeping it so hidden. I keep dancing around the subject. I don’t get into it. I deflect, I sidestep, and then distract.

 

I was supposed to meet up with someone after my old white dude appointment last night. Went to where we were going to meet and there was a note saying we’d need to reschedule. I totally get it and that’s honestly not a problem with me at all. There’s a lot of stuff going on for a lot of people right now, this is never an easy time of year. I will admit though, I may have just sat right the hell down and practically cried because it had been that kind of day. It was just, so very overwhelming and I couldn’t get it to stop. Made me feel like something was wrong with me, but I know it was just everything crashing at once. I had taken one of my anxiety meds earlier in the day, but I didn’t take another later so just the entire day crashed at once.

 

….so I went off to the pub because I worked out in my brain all the different things I could do and once the ‘good’ things didn’t work I knew I needed to list the ‘bad’ things. Beer and Pie fixes a lot of things as long as I don’t overdo the first part.

 

It let me calm down and settle for a bit. Thankfully I am usually able to cut myself off when I need to and before I go way too far. Which, I was able to do last night. I needed to slow my brain down and it worked. I try not to do it that way too often and I am getting better at other options. I also always love that particular drinking hole because I know I get to be me there, no matter what. It’s safe. Because it’s safe, I’m better at being responsible with myself.
I need to go make a phone call. I need to do it sober like the old white dude said. This is what I get for joking about being not sober in some way, I get legit told that I have to be sober because that makes it honest.

 

Damnit.

Wake Up; Check Damage Report

Each day is becoming more and more of waking up and looking for a damage report. Like, it is so hard some days to get dressed and go to work and try to make the world, or at least the community, a better place. This isn’t the kind of world I wanted to live in, but it’s the one I’m stuck in. Little by little I suppose is the only way to make it nowadays.


So I get up. I go to work. I do my job and work to improve people’s lives.

 

While there I also work to challenge people’s perceptions of various “groups” that I’m part of. I’m just like everyone else, but I do belong to various minority groups. I’m queer. I’m trans. I’ve got mental health issues. I’m not the face most people think of for any of those groups, though I “look” queerer and queerer each and every day. I’m just being myself. My nerdy self that I’ve always been.

 

I made a deal with myself that I was going to be more open in general this year. Especially with the fallout of how the election went in 2016. We need people to stand up and speak out. We need to be able to show people ourselves in a way that could challenge the bias they had. We need to create a world where it is safe to be who we really are. That might mean starting small. Looking at local spaces in a community where it is okay to just be. To just exist. That might mean that we need to look at our local library, because most of them don’t get a lot of money, and see how we can help. Ask what they want, what they need, what they wish they could do. I read all the time, so I am buying cheap books in good condition, reading them, and donating them. Others need knowledge too. Others need entertainment. Kids need to find things that can help them find their passions.

 

We need to help one another. Only as one can we survive.

 

But that’s scary too.

 

This whole being honest and open really, really sucks. I want to be able to be myself. But, as it keeps being at the moment… that’s not really a possibility in some of the spaces I exist in.

 

But I have to keep trying. It’s not like I can cease to exist, though there are days when I would still like to cease. I’m here and that’s where I’m at. I wake up, I take my meds, I go to therapy every week and I am trying my damnedest to be who I am without fear.
…and then I look at the current state of the country, and I fear for what the next day may bring.

A Dark World Aches for a Splash of the Sun

It has been a bit of time since I sat down and attempted to put words on a page about what I think and feel. It’s not been an easy time. I am still exceptionally hurt and sadly I think it’s going to fall to me to give a bid to the other party. I don’t want this breach to continue. I need to know if it can be fixed or if I should work on making the hurt inside me less painful.

 

I was at an event with the other half of this whole thing and I attempted to pretend things were fine. I was hoping they would be the one to put forth the bid, the whole “We need to talk” conversation. Just the bid. I did my best to just, exist and keep it from everyone else. I don’t know how well I did with most of the group, but I know I felt the ice. I felt it creeping in and around me. No conversation, no real eye contact.

 

So, with that in mind I have new homework this week from my old white dude. In this relationship with the breach, I am not the one who holds the majority of the power because it’s not a relationship between equals.  It never has been. I’m the more vulnerable one here and now I have to be even more and I have to put forth the bid. I have to find this courage to ask this person, “Can we talk?” I don’t want to, because it scares me and I’m super uncomfortable. I don’t know how to do relationship repair. I have figured it out with my spouse, but I do not have the tools to do it with others. I’m terrified. I’m afraid on so many levels, because what if it goes horribly wrong? What if this relationship is only important to one side? It’s been such a formative relationship for me, that the idea of it being broken and gone is crushing. I am so lost.

 

Something that kind of compounds all of this hurt, is that when I had the last conversation with this person, I am unsure and could be wrong… but I felt misgendered. It could be just how my brain was reacting and hearing as it completely shut down. My brain keeps circling back and trying to focus on that which isn’t helping me at all.

 

I haven’t actually told many people about the breach at all. It’s not something that needs to be mentioned. I told my old white dude because I tell him everything and this is really fucking me up. I ended up telling, let’s call him Uncle to give him a name, because he noticed that something wasn’t right one of the times I saw him. I’ve been making an effort this past year to be more honest and when I could tell he wasn’t letting me get away with it… I told him. I think it was a lot harder to tell Uncle rather than Old White Dude because he’s seen a lot and knows a lot, more than he lets on usually. I’ve allowed myself to be very vulnerable with him and I am very glad I have. Our relationship isn’t one of peers per say, but it’s a lot closer to a more even keel. We both give and take. I cherish the talks I’ve had with him and I do know for a fact that he’s enjoyed them as well. I know because he told me and I’m not used to knowing that sort of thing.

 

It’s been a very, very hard couple weeks in some ways and that’s not even taking on what’s going on in the world. This is just what’s in my own bubble. I am mentally stable at the moment, but I am not “better” and I might never be entirely “okay,” but currently I am stable. I am trying to be more and more open about various parts because if not me, then who? It’s okay to have mental health issues. It happens to more than we think, but we always hide it in the shadows. That’s not helpful. Until I started talking, it made me feel so much more alone than I already felt.

So I guess I’m going to try and find this courage I supposedly have and I’m going to attempt a bid. I’m afraid of what the answer might be, but I am at least going to try and put the bid out there. What the other half does with it is beyond me, but I need to put it out there. 

I will not lie. I am afraid. I am being honest and I am afraid that if it goes bad, I won’t be very good at all. It’s scary to me and I hate to admit I am afraid or scared or anything like that. But I am. I am very scared.

The Shadow is Cast

I need to like myself?

 

Now damnit, I have worked very hard to like as much of me as I can at any given moment. Do I really dislike parts of me? Yea, sure. Who doesn’t? Is half of it a warped reality? Oh yea, I know that too. Do I like myself 100%, 100% of the time? No. Do I ever expect to? Nope.

 

I like parts of my physical being. There are parts I don’t like, and some of that pulls back into a sense of dysphoria. I am working the best I can around that. Some days are easier than others, but in general I can handle it. It has taken me quite awhile to get where I am, but it really isn’t as bad as it could be. I take the physical a day at a time.

 

I really dislike parts of how my brain works. I hate how it gets caught in loops. I hate how I always overthink everything. I hate how my brain assumes the worst 95% of the time. I hate the flashbacks and regressions. I hate how my brain guilts me into thinking having emotions isn’t okay or that my emotions cannot be real.  I hate how my brain convinces me that I cannot be deserving of attention or affection, though with this case in point I wonder why my brain fixates on that. Can I fix these things by liking myself? From where I’m standing… no.

 

I need the help of others to start working on rewiring my brain. I cannot do this alone. Little by little, with people supporting me I can work on seeing things as they do and not through a lens of trauma.  Sure, I’m going to be carrying the majority of the work on that but I need breathers too. I don’t know what it’s like to like certain parts of me and there isn’t just a magic wand that changes that. How am I supposed to learn that without being able to see how others look at me? How can I work on screwing with my stuck points if I don’t get evidence that is against what they are? Only way to get that evidence is with others, it cannot be done alone.

 

Telling someone they need to just like themselves to me is like telling a person it’s all in their head. How is that supposed to help a damned thing? Why would you tell someone that they just need to like themselves or that they just need to get out of an area and everything will be fine. A geographical cure can work for some people, but not everyone has the resources to do that.

 

And to tell someone who finally is a little more stable because both people have jobs and the one has one they are amazing at, that they are just stuck now. That’s offensive. I have struggled, they have struggled and now we have employment and we enjoy it. I don’t always love my job, but I’m good at it and I’m making a difference. My spouse is amazing at their job and they love it. I have never seen them happier going to work in the morning than I do now.  We are in a little community and honestly with the work both of us are doing, we could make a difference for the better. We could bring some of these people out of the shadows and let the diversity that is hidden shine.

 

To be disappointed that I’m “stuck” now? That’s an opinion of you. I don’t believe I’m stuck. Sure, I wanted to go out and about in the world, but I also have never had the resources to do it. I made do with what I had. Guess what, I made it work with what I have and I’m honestly content about it. I found amazing people to work with, a doctor I don’t hate who I trust, and an amazing man to help me start working on everything in my head.

 

When I went and talked to the person who has now severely screwed up my head, I wasn’t looking for this superhuman person with all these powers. I was looking to talk to someone I trusted. I was looking to remind myself there have been people who have supported me. I wasn’t expecting a lot nor was I expecting that they would be able to even do a lot to ‘help’ me. I needed to just talk with someone I trusted and let the little kid breathe a moment. I thought maybe I would take some of what the old white dude said and apply it. I thought okay, I will go where I trust and feel safe and let the little one exist and maybe he can tell me what he needs.

 

The opposite happened. I am angry. I am bitter and petty. I am so immensely hurt. I hurt more because the little one in me feels rejected and like he was struck. I feel responsible too because I am trying to get to a place where the little one realizes that I’m not here to hurt him, but I went and did something that ended up hurting him and myself. I do not know how I will ever talk with this person again at the moment. I might not. I might suck it all in and cut as much as I can of them from my memory. It won’t be the first time I have done that with a person.

 

I am still feeling immensely empty. I have not had a feeling like this that is so strong I can physically feel it in awhile. I do not want it to turn to the type of bitterness I hold toward other people. I had trusted this person since I was 19 and for me, 8 years is a really, really long time for me to be able to trust someone. I do not want to be turning the hurt I feel now into the level of bitterness that I could turn it into. I am bitter now, yes, but it is more of a general bitterness that goes with the pettiness I’m also feeling.  I do not want it to get to a point where I have a physical/emotional reaction every time I hear their name or see them.

 

My old white dude is going to have his work cut out for him this week. I don’t know if I am going to be ready for it, but I am going to do it. In a year’s time, I have never lied to him nor have I completely avoided things. I don’t plan on starting the next year with him doing that.
A day at a time, just little by little.

Empty.

I have never felt so empty or alone.

 

I was supposed to reach out. I was supposed to make contact with people I trusted who have supported me. Let me have enough time to catch my feet and move move forward in other ways. Let me know I can bounce back.

 

I’m bad at this.

 

Actually, I’m pretty horrific at this.

 

I always have fear of asking for help. It takes a lot out of me to even start thinking I need to ask. Then I build myself up. And, if all goes to plan… I am sometimes able to choke my fear and ask.

 

I am still very bad at this.

 

There are times I will start, but hit the abort button halfway through it.

 

I wish I would have done that.

 

I bit my tongue because I wanted to believe in people. I wanted to believe that on some level I do matter. I wanted to trust.

 

…My fears were confirmed.

 

I’m not a disappointment, but the fact I am here in the area I’m in.. that’s disappointing. I’m also “stuck” now because my spouse has a job they love and one they are loved at. This is apparently a bad thing.

 

I hear words coming out of their mouth and perhaps my brain just stopped listening… or perhaps I did hear what I thought I did and I’m begging inside for it not to be true.

 

I am no longer in X place in my life, so they cannot be of help. Nobody in that section can be of help. I just need to like myself or something. I just need to get better.

 

I trusted them. I respected them. I put a bit of my faith in humanity in them.

 

…I am empty.

 

I thought I had made so much progress in a year’s time. I was starting to unhook some things in my mind. I was not always feeling safe, but I had a better footing.

 

I am not safe now. I am not trusting. I am not okay.

 

The worst part? I can feel the little one inside me crying out… cause he thinks that once again, he is not good enough. He thinks he cannot be loved or cared about. He wanted to see the good. He wanted to feel the warmth of the sun. I think that’s the biggest slap, because he had hope.
…Hope is such a dangerous thing.

Whirlwind of Anger and Emotion

In an odd turn of events, I have my teenage self under control. It is a rare thing that happens. He isn’t normally my good inner self. But here he is, the calmest of the three. My adult is tired, because he’s trying so damned hard to keep everything together and appear to be competent. Then there is my little kid and he is being my troublemaker. I’m not used to him being the issue, so I’m even more at a loss right now. Every time I talk about these three inner folk with my old white dude, I make sure that he doesn’t think I’m crazy. He just looks at me, chuckles, and tells me that I’m perfectly sane.

 

So my little one is a ball of emotions. The only one I can identify is anger, which scares me. I learned very, very young that I needed to not have certain emotions. I learned early on how to hide them or just sort of block them out.  Most children will throw tantrums of a need of theirs isn’t being met and they don’t know what to do other than get angry because they can’t regulate their emotions yet. That wasn’t an option. Getting angry at all wasn’t an option. If I did, things would be worse. It didn’t teach me anything other than I wasn’t allowed certain emotions and nobody would take the time to talk to me.  I would be ignored more than I already was if I didn’t “act right” and yet I was never sure what acting right meant. I adapted to what I thought was wanted… which leads me to where I am now.

 

There are days where I am scared of myself. That has come and gone for years, I know my limits with it. I am not near the line I set for myself eons ago, but the fact I had to remind myself of where that was a bit of an eye opener.  I hadn’t realized how much I had been retreating into my head and turning off different emotions again.

 

I am trying to learn how to help my inner child but he’s building walls and he is hiding. I keep getting flashes of emotion and some memories. I can’t stop them.  They are spanning great lengths of time, but each one is being seen and felt through the child. I had been getting one or two the last couple weeks and those are normal. They just happen and have for ages when I retreat too far in my head. I honestly thought it was normal because it was normal for me. Thanks PTSD. The last couple days have been bad. I haven’t had flashes like this in awhile. I’m going to have to bring it up with the old white dude this week. I hadn’t really mentioned them before, because they just exist and I learned how to deal with them for the most part. I know, the old white dude could help me work with them better but it just seemed insignificant at the moment. It was trivial compared to other things I was dealing with.

 

By seeing even adult memories through the child, I’m losing control of more of my emotions. It’s getting more primal, more out of control. I don’t know what to do with emotions like this, I have no idea at all. I never learned proper ways to deal with emotion, because I was just supposed to not have them. The more I try to move forward, the more boxes that are opening in my head and I can’t handle them. There’s more pain, more hurt, more sadness and loneliness…and after the fact comes anger. Hot, visceral anger. He is angry that nobody noticed, nobody ever seemed to care. He’s angry that he had to hide himself for so long and had to suffer alone in the darkness. There is an anger that he had to leave the land of magic that so many children live in… because that’s where kids exist, before he was ready to. Nobody taught him how to grow or express himself. Instead he was taught to hide, to pretend, to not have feelings, to not cry. Crying was always followed with that phrase, “Knock it off or I will give you something to cry about.” So I didn’t anymore. To the best of my ability, I hid it and caused it to cease to exist. It took me over two years to be able to cry in front of my one college professor who I saw on basically a daily basis. Over two years of stress, pain, and feeling so hopeless at times. You know what I was scared of most when it finally just burst? I was more scared that she would push me away. I knew I couldn’t hold it in anymore, but as I sat there at first I was afraid I had just ruined a relationship that meant a lot to me. So I didn’t know what to do when she did the opposite of that. She listened, she waited, and most of all she was kind. She didn’t think any less of me for releasing all those pent up emotions. I think she was more relieved in some ways that I was finally able to open that door a little bit. I’m afraid I’ve slammed it shut again though.

 

I didn’t understand what I was experiencing when I was little. I did not have anyone to help me understand what I was experiencing. What I did learn was that I was getting the message that I couldn’t be. Literally, I could not be as I was and I had to change to be safe. Kids want to feel safe right? I didn’t know what safe felt like because I constantly policed myself to make sure I was following all the rules I thought I needed to follow.
I am not sure why the little one in me is so angry. I might have theories to talk over with the old white dude when I see him, but I don’t know if any of them can hold water. Since I started writing this particular post a couple days ago, I still don’t have any idea. All I know is that I don’t have control over him and he’s a ball of emotion… with nowhere to put it.