Day 360.
If days were degrees, I would have made a full revolution around the grief that comes from losing my mother very suddenly to a car accident.
Actually, I lost my mother to a torn aorta and subsequent exsanguination.
full circle.
it sounds so final and yet I know that the end will arrive at MY end, and that until that day, there will be a part f me that is always grieving for her.
5 days until the DAY
I want to take strength from this loss...I need to figure out how.
I am mired in my own fears, and yet I can see the extended hand that wants to pull me free.
I have the muscle behind me to push me on, and yet I remain in the familiar.
too scared to leave the known behind, and so I will
fuck fear\
swallow it and move move move one step at a time
each second is one second closer to my eventual death
spinning these wheels won't get me farther down my path
gotta dig in and fight myself FREE
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Thursday, April 3, 2014
first entry
New blog....same writer but different, too.
Here goes!
I am 5 years into my transition from female to ___?____.
I look like a man but I still do not wish to be one, I wish to be in the liminal space. Of course, there are really only 2 boxes that society deems appropriate to inhabit, so by default I am placed into the M where I used to go into the F. Kind of a mindfuck, to be sure, mostly because now I want to be seen as a person with a female herstory, who now walks the world with a beard and a man-voice, fueled by testosterone.
I catch myself almost starting conversations as if I am still that woman, then I remember how I look now and I do not want to seem like those jerks who think they know what's best for women and have no qualms about spouting off all their fucked up ideas AD NAUSEUM....I guess I am disillusioned with the M box as much as I was disillusioned by the F box, though I was, to a certain extent, able to find more of my people in the F box; probably because I lived in it longer.
I do love this new version of me...I love my beard and my pelty chest and my broader shoulders and slimmer hips and the fact that I can be a fly on the wall and I can disappear when I want to (it was harder as an androgynous butch dyke).
My goal in this life of mine is to live it authentically. I wish to speak my mind more, to tell the truth even if it might sting, to love deeply and loyally, to delve into my own desires and creativity and kindness and strengths. I have done all of this in the past, and I will continue to strive for excellence in all of these areas, and more. I want to be the best "me" that I can be, amidst pain and loss and grief and heartache and depression and darkness and insecurity and anxiety and disillusionment and rage and fear and hurt. It is easy to be my best self when I am feeling really good and bright and strong and joyful...not so easy on the flipside, and so this is why I am aiming high. I can do it.
I will.
that is all
(for today)
Here goes!
I am 5 years into my transition from female to ___?____.
I look like a man but I still do not wish to be one, I wish to be in the liminal space. Of course, there are really only 2 boxes that society deems appropriate to inhabit, so by default I am placed into the M where I used to go into the F. Kind of a mindfuck, to be sure, mostly because now I want to be seen as a person with a female herstory, who now walks the world with a beard and a man-voice, fueled by testosterone.
I catch myself almost starting conversations as if I am still that woman, then I remember how I look now and I do not want to seem like those jerks who think they know what's best for women and have no qualms about spouting off all their fucked up ideas AD NAUSEUM....I guess I am disillusioned with the M box as much as I was disillusioned by the F box, though I was, to a certain extent, able to find more of my people in the F box; probably because I lived in it longer.
I do love this new version of me...I love my beard and my pelty chest and my broader shoulders and slimmer hips and the fact that I can be a fly on the wall and I can disappear when I want to (it was harder as an androgynous butch dyke).
My goal in this life of mine is to live it authentically. I wish to speak my mind more, to tell the truth even if it might sting, to love deeply and loyally, to delve into my own desires and creativity and kindness and strengths. I have done all of this in the past, and I will continue to strive for excellence in all of these areas, and more. I want to be the best "me" that I can be, amidst pain and loss and grief and heartache and depression and darkness and insecurity and anxiety and disillusionment and rage and fear and hurt. It is easy to be my best self when I am feeling really good and bright and strong and joyful...not so easy on the flipside, and so this is why I am aiming high. I can do it.
I will.
that is all
(for today)
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