Struggling Forward

Some days I have to make a real, conscious effort to function. There's no reason to it; there are just mornings where I wake up feeling wrong and I can't shake it. Let me make this clear, I wake up feeling wrong every day, only I can usually find a way to push through it. It's the days where I can't seem to shake it that kill me.

I'll have a weight on my chest that has nothing to do with my binder. It feels like I'm walking through goo. Each step is hard, each word I have to speak is painful. There's a disconnect between myself and reality. On those days I go through the motions trying best to put on the usual costume, yet it all seems so much more fake. It's always been fake but the usual veil I can put over my eyes has flown away and I am constantly exposed to the raw, ugly truth. It's hard to have patience, to be calm. How do you serve customers when the entire day you're internally screaming? The stupid people that I can usually ignore test my patience. I'm not out at work, it's not time. Most days instances of misgendering can be ignored; the stab of pain pushed to the back of my mind. But on these days there is no control. Each "hello ladies" is a dagger in my gut. Every "she" makes my heart sink. Every "Samantha" sends my blood running cold. Each minute spent in this hell separates me further from myself until I can't even remember how to do the everyday things I normally can - do a good job at work, eat, do chores, think. You try to add any extra stress on top of that and you're practically guaranteeing a breakdown.

I do whatever I can to fight these feelings but it never seems to be enough. I can find some relief in talking it out, writing it out, even if it's only just a little. It's when I stop that's the problem. The pain is always right at my heels. If I keep running I can keep ahead of it, but that's what I don't want to do. I'm getting tired.

One of the clearest examples of what this all does to me can be pulled from this poem I wrote back in December 2016:

Stop.
The darkness, it crawls close.
Listen.
My heart, it cries out.
Insanity inches nearer,
And I feel myself losing grip.
How did I come to be dangling above this cliff?
I am trapped in here,
Suffocating beneath this skin
Pulled taut across my being, caging in my soul.
Somewhere inside I am drowning.
There is a voice deep within
Screaming out for help;
But it is lost,
Lost in the maze of cells,
Buried beneath all that is wrong.
I let it get to this point.
After all the years of pushing the truth further and further down,
Hiding it away for the sake of convenience.
Why should I torture myself by allowing myself to be less normal?
I should have discussed this further with me.
I am finding that such ignorance was not bliss,
That only more pain came from turning from the truth.
No matter how strange.
No matter how misunderstood.
I had no answers to give my brain
Only the endless question:
What is wrong with me?
I got tired of not knowing what it meant.
Tired of the secrets.
So I buried them deeper.
There's that weight again.
Crushing me further.
I am going to implode.
I want to scream.
Please let me tear out of my skin.
Something is wrong here.
Terribly wrong.
I need help,
But I can't even help myself.
Please-
Pull me from the darkness,
From these thoughts.
I can't take it anymore.
There's no peace from this inner chaos.
The dreams are all nightmares,
The nightmares are too real.
How long can one go before unraveling?
Look,
I see the strings dangling out behind me.
One snag and I'll be pulled to pieces.
Or is it too late?
Am I already in pieces
Kept together with large clumsy stitches,
Threatening to fall apart?
Where is the escape?
How do I activate the trap door?
Is there a panic button?
There must be some soothing words out there,
A warm embrace,
A distraction from this pain.
One can only ask for help so many times
Before the cry becomes smaller, smaller.
I feel like a burden.
Why should others have to help me?
But I am weakening.
Collapse is not far off.
The journey has just begun.
But I'm so tired.
So.
Very.
Tired.
I should be stronger than this,
Yet I feel like I have no strength left at all.
Where do I go from here?
Will it always be like this?
I hope not.
I hope.

I read back over that poem a lot. It seems to help on the hardest of the days even if it's only a little bit. I'm better if I'm allowed to space out, to get stuck in my head because somewhere deep in there below all the mess is the place where I truly am and can be me. But when I pull myself out of that place, there's no more safety. People don't see the truth. They see the lies that have resulted from a mistake of nature.

I'm obviously talking about being transgender. I don't think I've used that word yet in this so there you go. What's the point in veiled hints? This is my place to be honest. I guess I assume you (whoever you may be) already know. I'm figuring it's Facebook friends I'm talking to because that's who I intend to personally share this with. I've come out to my Facebook friends - although it was long enough ago now and I'm quiet enough about my transition that I'm sure there are plenty of people who have forgotten at this point.

Eventually I will do a post about realizing I'm trans and all that good stuff, but this isn't that post. The only thing I will explain is what gender dysphoria is because that's what this awful feeling really stems from. Whenever I speak of gender dysphoria I am referring to (I will now directly quote from google)"the condition of feeling one's emotional and psychological identity as male or female to be opposite to one's biological sex." (Google it yourself for more in depth information. There's a wealth of information on the internet)

Imagine the best you ever felt you looked, a time where you looked in the mirror and thought something along the lines of, "Damn, I look good. I feel good. This is me." Now I want you to imagine never being able to feel that way ever again (when looking in a mirror, at least). I want you to imagine how it would feel to feel that way and expect to see yourself when you turn to the mirror, but when you do, you get someone entirely different. Every. Single. Time. Maybe you don't even know exactly what you expect yourself to look like, that's fine. The point is that what you're looking at is terribly wrong and you know it. It's not a good feeling to say the least.

The start of a new week is especially hard for me. All weekend I've given myself the time to have my space. I haven't had to be around people if I haven't wanted to, and I certainly have done everything in my power to not have to put on the costume of "me" that I have no choice but to put on for work. So when it's time to don it again, to have to be this girl… this awful feeling creeps back in. I'm sure you ask "then why not come out at work?" I ask myself the same damn thing and it's the same answer each time, "fear." I'm afraid of not being accepted, of snide comments, weird looks. This job is my sole source of income right now. I lose that and everything else falls apart. I know I have rights. I know they can't fire me at the drop of a hat. I dont even think they'd want to. In fact, I'm less worried about being fired and more worried about working with people who may judge my every move (if that makes sense). I don't want to be in a place where I know people disapprove of me, may not even believe me. I guess more than anything I'm afraid they'll change how they think of me, will treat me different. Why does that even matter? I don't know. It shouldn't. Plus, I hate expecting the worst from people and would hope to be pleasantly surprised. It doesn't stop me from asking myself, "When it comes to something as important as my job, shouldn't I be prepared for the worst?"

I didn't ask for this and if I didn't know (and I mean I know. I'm already feeling better, even amidst all this in my head) that it would make me happier and better in the long run, I wouldn't have chosen to transition, to start hormone replacement therapy. I don't just do things if I'm not sure (also they don't just let you start HRT). I agonize over decisions regarding my well being far longer than I should - even when the evidence of the good it can do (or is doing) is dangling in front of my face. Yes I'm on the right path, but that doesnt mean it's an easy path either. That's the thing about life. No matter what path you choose, it's still a journey. There will always be obstacles. No one ever said it would be easy and I never expected it to be. Sometimes you've gotta just keep your eyes on the goal and keep struggling forward.