A LONG WAY FROM HOME
Today I can say I’m good, content and on the plus side of ups and downs
I’m thinking of playing piano, even though my hands are slowing down, losing speed and reach, the occasional klinker.
i slept hard, the result of 3 trazodone and mirtazapine and morphine. woke up in pain and now 3 hours later I am so tired I can hardly sit up.
I’m ignoring it.
Continue reading “Good days happen”So what’s the story here, this story of the Queer Kyd from Kansas?
Stories I suppose.
The story of being a post-op transwoman and the quest for inner peace; it’s not quite finished. Gender Dysphoria. A true path or another symptom of PTSD?
The story of being raped as a young child and the consequent PTSD:; unknown and hidden, overwhelmed by the guilt and shame.
Continue reading “Stories”If I stay focused, I deliver the same message to myself. That message is a simple reminder really. To give myself a little grace, as one of my best friends puts it, a little grace. Let the past be what it was, and let it lie.
I’m holding a 7 year old to blame for a bad life, the guilt and shame I built up to justify another person’s evil. I need to ask that 7 year old to forgive me for doing so, my 7 year old self I held responsible for the torment. Holding him to blame for what happened in changing my course. Upending.
If only…
Continue reading “Depression and Guilt”Why is it that other’s coping skills for a trauma or tragedy always cost me more pain?
It’s been that way four times in the past four years, and I cannot go through this one more time.
If you avoid me as a way of coping, my mental illness immediately assumes that I did something, you’re mad, I hurt you.
Continue reading “Loneliness feeds depression”Why?
Simply look up the definition in the OED, that’s the Oxford English Dictionary. And even there it’s wrong…
“The male sex or the female sex, especially when considered with reference to social and cultural differences rather than biological ones, or one of a range of other identities that do not correspond to established ideas of male and female.”
Simply put:
Sex (male or female) X social norms.
Continue reading “Gender: a meaningless word.”I made a statement to a friend on Wednesday, someone I deeply love and admire, and believe it is the truest thing I have ever said.
I’ll quote myself, as I remember the words, wishing it had been flowing prose but true nonetheless.
“I wish I could have lived this life as a woman, had the chance anyway. I would have been happier.”
Could have been phrased a bit better, but that’s the way it came out.
Continue reading “IF ONLY I HAD THE CHANCE…”Back to the question of how I identify.
This will be the first time I’m putting this down, so bear with me.
In my heart and mind I was meant to be a woman, and would have lived a much happier life in doing so.
Simply put, I consider myself female. And there is one person who “gets it”, that through their eyes they can get past the facade and see me for who I am.
Continue reading “My place as Queer”Abilify. An anti-psychotic that is used for chronic depression, with suicidal ideation.
It‘s odd how the spell checker keeps changing it into “Ability”.
Not odd…profound. Why? The drug has reduced my thoughts of suicide and depression quite well, and replaced it with a numbing apathy about everything.
I can’t cry or go down the rabbit hole.
Continue reading “Depression meds”“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
― Anais Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
I’ve always loved that quote, except for the part that happens when these worlds pull apart. But that part isn’t there is it? The death of this new world. Or does it really die?
Continue reading “Anais Nin Quote”Maybe trying to use myself as a case study is in itself a symptom of PTSD, but since I consider myself a bit whacked, why not?
The trouble I’m going to have is looking backwards, and trying to move forward at the same time. I have to make sure I don’t trip too many times anyway. It’s not quite like going blindly forward, which I have done more than once in my drunken days. Wonder I can still see at all.
Why even look back, let sleeping dogs lie and move on? That’s the issue, I can’t.
Continue reading “A Basket Case Study”